


Heavenly Bodies

by Maplesyrup



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Space, Changed the tags, EMBRACE OUR INTERSTELLAR DARLINGS, F/M, Grumpy interstellar male, RUMBELLE IN SPACE, Rumbelle - Freeform, Sassy earthling female, Slow Burn, Sorry dudes, alien smut, basically hugs are porn in this, because YOU'RE ALL AS WEIRD AS I AM, but it's a sloooooow burn, for reals, there will be smut, this is so weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 52,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maplesyrup/pseuds/Maplesyrup
Summary: The one where Rumple is an alien who comes to Earth and runs into our favorite chestnut-haired heroine. Hijinks ensue.2018 Rumbelle Happy Ending Award Winner - Best Creature AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies. Please do let me know what you think, this thing is so weird.

Rumplestiltskin looked up from his notes as the navigation system of his ship emitted a low, pleasant tone, followed by the usual AI voice.

_Exiting Andromeda galaxy, proceeding to Milky Way. Scanning for baseline readings. Report forthcoming._

He flicked his eyes back to the screen in his hand, gliding one clawed, green-gold finger across the glass surface in a tight scrawl as a finisher to the day’s record. Setting the slim piece of glass in it’s docking station, he stood to stretch and relished the satisfying pop of his vertebrae as they released the pressure from long hours of sitting with his notes.

Rumplestiltskin moved to the sideboard and pressed a panel, revealing an inset shelf with several  different bottles holding colored liquids. He selected one and went about fixing himself a drink. 

When finished, he strolled to the front, tumbler in hand and looking out into the vast darkness dotted here and there by stars, and took a large sip, the burn of the alcohol leaving a pleasant tingle in its wake. His planet’s best, always stocked on his humble little vessel, and he’d yet to try anything better in all his travels.

Another pleasant chime, this one higher, signaled the completion of the report and he moved to the console, taking up the glass notepad again, and giving the screen a few taps to bring up the report. He settled back into his chair, sipping the drink absently as he scanned the information.

_“MILKY WAY” galaxy, selection in the Local Group. Closest planetary system to vessel located on the “ORION ARM”. 8 functional orbital bodies, 1 sub-functional circumnavigating 1 gaseous star._

He flicked through the rest of the report, slightly bored with information well within the realm of normal by galactic standards, until his eyes found a bold line of text close to the bottom.

_Of the 8 functional and 1 sub-functional, signs of life are negligent excepting the orbital body titled “EARTH”._

Earth. He dredged his memory, but recalled little from his training (if one could refer to being thrust into this particular life path by a parent as “training”) aside that it was a young planet, with massive liquid content on the surface. He was more surprised of the lack of species diversity in a group with a fair number of planets orbiting a start of a particular gaseous compound. He rolled his eyes. Likely some sort of primordial ooze or slug infestation covered the non-liquid surface and passed for “life”, but he’d make do. Collect samples of the air, soil, and available liquids, maybe grab a pair slugs for research during the trip home, and be on his way. 

He tapped through the screen to the coordinate dial, and, locating the corresponding code for Earth, entered his selection. He toggled the fuel ratios a bit to get him there quicker, and then sat back to wait for arrival.

The sooner he got there, the sooner her could leave.

* * *

He was warm and comfortable, bathed in the glow of midday rays from his home planet’s nearest life-giving star, the light glinting off his scales and all but eradicating the green from the gold. He shifted in his reclined seat a bit, frowning as one of the noisy four-winged creatures that inhabited the woods around his abode began to screech at him.

Rumplestiltskin tried to wave the thing away, but it was not deterred, fluttering it’s multihued self down to land on his knee and screech in a ridiculously obnoxious staccato that reminded him far too much of his ship’s emergency alert. He swatted at the blasted creature, attempting to clamp it’s overlong beak shut—

And nearly fell out of his navigation chair. Jerked roughly awake by nearly colliding with the instrument panel, he shook off the daze from the impromptu nap as he registered that the screeching in his dream was, in fact, the emergency alert trying to get him to address a problem.

He shot to his feet, rushing to the overlook window and saw a very blue planet quickly approaching, and his quick mind estimated he had a very short amount of time before he reached whatever gaseous atmosphere surrounded the planet.

He turned around, looking for the notepad and found it on the floor near his chair. He scooped it up and hastily tapped on the screen to bring up the fuel gauges, groaning when he saw the percentage.

He’d meant to dial it up just two percent, but instead had somehow manage to make that into twenty. No wonder the system was screaming at him; it was having a fit over depleted resources and impending doom.

He had enough fuel to safely land, but wouldn’t have enough to make it back, let alone make it through the usual warp that saved literal eons of travel. He had two choices: stop the ship and put the remaining fuel in stasis, letting the gravitational fields around him pull him down to the planet’s surface and risking damage to his ship, or use the remaining fuel to land safely and pray to the gods he no longer believed in that the planet had enough of the right natural resources that he could cobble together fuel to at least get off the blasted thing.

The AI’s soothing voice came over the speakers once more.

_Warning. Fuel reaching critical depletion. Emergency measures recommended._

“Yes, yes, you bloody thing! I’m well-aware!” Rumplestiltskin skirted the console and moved to the back of the flight deck, the doors to the rest of the ship sliding open with a muffled _whoosh_ as he drew near. He hurried through to the one shortcut in the ship that led directly to the fuel tanks in the belly. 

He’d specifically requested manual biological override of any fuel emergencies to prevent anyone from tampering with his ship without his knowledge, and wanted to kick himself for it at the moment. It meant wasting precious time he could be using to secure his person from the inevitable shock of hitting whatever ground he might face when the ship… landed.

Reaching the tanks and the manual override panel next to them, he tapped in his code, then stuck a finger into the indent next to the number pad. He hissed as the needle jabbed him, then waited for a moment as it registered his allele sequence.

A cheerful ding issued from the small panel, and he growled in frustrated annoyance. He really needed to have his mechanic change those blasted noises. Another panel slid out from the side of the number pad, and he punched in the override access furiously, listening as the tanks began their cool down into stasis.

The rest would take care of itself down there; he needed to get back up to the flight deck and secure himself. The ship was fully functional, with a sophisticated electrical grid that manned everything and worked independently of the non-electric fuel, but he still had to turn the alarm off from the front.

He was nearly to the deck when the ship gave a hard lurch, knocking him to the ground. He scrambled back up, making it to the deck just in time to see the outer edges of the front window begin to glow.

He’d entered the atmosphere of the blue planet. _Of Earth_ , he reminded himself, and the gravitational pull was doing its job. Far too well from the looks of it. He dropped hard into the chair, pressing buttons on the glass pad desperately, and watched for a moment as an extra panel in the ships hull slid up and over the window in the front. He tapped a few more buttons before setting the pad into its station and settling back into the chair. Bands of air-filled material wrapped around his vital body points and the cushions of the chair softened slightly and expanded with their own cushion of air.

All that was left was to wait. And hope he didn’t go mad from the still-screeching alarm


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lovely librarian should have stayed in bed today.

Sandwiches didn't normally rock one’s world.

Of course, a delicious sandwich was a thing of beauty, indeed, and could really hit the spot like nothing else. But earthshakingly good sandwiches were hard to come by

It had been a less-than-eventful day so far for Belle French, Storybrooke’s well-liked but slightly odd librarian. One class visit from the eighth grade of the town’s middle school, a hour and a half  of reshelving, and then a turkey reuben on rye with a side of french fries from Granny’s

She was halfway through her first bite when the ground shook. Not terribly, but enough to rattle her soda where it sat on the circulation desk.

Belle paused for a second, then finished her bite before putting down the sandwich and chewing absently as she moved to the front door. She pulled it open, the blinds swaying with the movement, and peered out at the town.

All seemed relatively calm; a few residents were entering Granny’s for their lunch breaks, Archie Hopper and his dog Pongo were taking their usual walk around the block. Belle let the door shut behind her as she took a few steps out, waving to some of the people she saw.

Archie waved back, and changed direction, heading for her. Pongo strained at his leash as he saw where, and to whom, they were going and Belle crouched down to meet him first.

“Hey guys!” She scratched the Dalmatian’s ears, and laughed as he whined and licked her face. “I’m glad to see you, too.” She stood, giving Archie a sunny smile. “How are you today?”

“Oh, fine,” Archie said, adjusting the glasses perched on his nose, his friendly face crinkling with a lopsided smile. “And you? How’s the library?”

“Fine,” she echoed. “Listen, Archie, did you… did you feel anything strange a little while ago?”

Archie frowned. “No, I don’t think—oh, do you mean the earthquake?” He nodded. “I felt that. So did Pongo. A bit strange, we don’t normally get them.” The dog nosed at Archie’s hands upon hearing his name, and Archie patted his head affectionately “Poor Pongo didn’t know what to do for a minute. I don’t think he’s ever experienced an earthquake before.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Belle twisted her fingers together, uncertain. “It’s just weird; we’re not on a fault line, and it was a solitary event. No aftershocks.” She bit her lip, looking off into the distance. “I don’t know, maybe I’m imagining things and it really was just an earthquake.”

Archie chuckled. “That imagination of yours is part of why you’re the best librarian we’ve had in a while, I’d imagine.” Pongo moved towards her again, licking her fingers as if agreeing silently with Archie’s words.

Belle laughed, warm and bright. “You’re such a doll, Archie.” She shook her head, her gaze straying back to the edge of town. “I suppose I better get back, I have a sandwich waiting for me and my fries—“

She stopped abruptly, her attention riveted on the trees.

“Belle?” Archie waved a hand in front of her face. “Are you alright?”

She squinted. She could swear smoke was rising from the trees, far off. “Do you see that? In the trees?”

Archie followed her gaze. “No, I don’t see anything.”

Belle kept looking, and sure enough, a gauzy dark whorl of smoke rose in the air. She turned around, moving back to the library, turning the sign to Closed and shutting the door. “I’ll be back soon. If anyone asks you, tell them I had an errand to run, would you?” She began walking quickly down the road, making a beeline for the forest.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Archie stood helplessly behind her, holding a straining Pongo. “Belle? Belle!”

She half-turned to wave a hand at him. “I’ll be fine, I just need to check on something!” She gave him a reassuring smile before turning away and continuing on to the woods.

 

 

Belle only made it a few yards into the woods before she regretted her choice of shoes. She sighed, stopping at a low stump from a fallen tree and plopping down. She removed her shoes, flexing her stiff toes and rolling her ankles to loosen them up after the strain of traipsing through the woods in five-inchers.

She blew a curl out of her face and scanned the area around her. It was safe enough, she wasn’t worried about that. More so how to navigate the woods barefoot—well, clad in tights, anyway.

Rolling her eyes at her customary impulsiveness, she hooked two fingers into her shoes and pushed herself up, gingerly stepping through the underbrush as quick as she dared.

She walked along for awhile without seeing anything, managing to avoid stepping on the more painful-looking pieces of forest debris, and was getting ready to give up her search when she saw a very large, very odd shape through the trees. Curiosity pulled her towards it and she went, heedless of what she was stepping on, and gasped as it came fully into view.

The thing had done some serious damage to the space around it, knocking down trees in an area as wide as a city block. She gawked at the sheer size of it, and her brain began to knit an outlandish hypothesis.

She was face to face, so to speak, with a spaceship.

It was massive. And oblong, from where she was standing. And grey, but a different kind of grey than she’d ever seen. Her brain assigned the color a name for lack of a better term to use, but she knew it wasn't quite correct. Thin black smoke curled from what she assumed was the back of the ship, and she slowed her steps in caution as a tiny voice in her head suggested she might want to have a care, in case of spontaneous combustion or hostile life forms or—

The vessel began to groan and creak.

Belle froze, her eyes riveted to the metal panel sliding down and disappearing somewhere beneath the front of the hull. A cracked piece of glass was underneath, and something…something was moving behind the glass.

Her adrenaline kicked in and seized her with the overwhelming desire to turn and run like hell. She began to take a few slow steps back, seeking the safety of the trees still standing. She tried to keep her movement smooth, but her breathing was harsh to her ears. She let out a small squeak of surprise as more groans issued from the ship, this time from the side, where a door-like shape sunk into the hull and disappeared, revealing a gaping, dark rectangle.

A shadowed, human-shaped thing filled the rectangle, and Belle gawped as it stepped into the light and looked around.

From where she was half-crouched in the trees the creature appeared to practically shimmer in the sun, with skin a peculiar greenish-gold. Long and wavy hair brushed the stiff collar of a dark, leather-like coat that reached to mid-thigh.

He, because for all intents the creature appeared male to her, scanned the area for a moment before seeming to notice his ship was smoking. A low, exasperated growl reached her ears and she couldn't stop the small giggle that escaped her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth, praying he hadn't heard.

No such luck.

He stilled before his head rose slowly and he turned to look over his shoulder at the exact area that contained Belle. Her lungs burned and she realized she’d been holding her breath, but didn’t dare let it out for fear of what he might do if he caught her.

He looked for a long moment, his brows lowered dangerously over his eyes as he seemed to rest them on every inch around her without finding her.

He turned away and moved briskly towards the back of his ship, saying things she couldn't recognize at that distance, but she could tell they weren't pleasant.

She let out the held breath as quick as she dared, the burning in her lungs receding as she resumed a more normal breathing pattern. She stepped backwards for another yard or so, the edge of freedom nearly at her fingertips, when her foot slipped on a very inopportune pile of damp leaves and she felt herself falling.

_Shit._

She hit the forest floor with a thud, her bottom snapping a few small branches where she landed. She covered her mouth to muffle her groans of pain; if she made it out of this alive, she'd have bruises there for weeks.

Belle strained to hear anything that would give his location away, but to her immense and confused relief, she couldn’t hear a thing besides the gentle breeze swaying the leaves overhead and a few birds chirping to each other far off.

She gingerly made her way back to standing, brushing the debris off her dress and locating where she’d dropped her shoes when the back of her neck began to tingle in warning.

Belle turned around slowly, hoping against hope that it was just a curious deer or squirrel or a damn bear behind her.

What she saw was altogether less inviting than anything the forest could dream up.

He was standing within touching distance, staring at her with a narrow, assessing gaze, his peculiar amber eyes over-bright, like a snake watching its prey, and she marveled at how he’d moved so quickly without her hearing anything.

Should she say something? He hadn’t moved, or blinked for that matter, but his eyes followed every little move she made. They darted down to her throat as she swallowed and back up as she let out a shaky breath from her mouth. His gaze lingered there before traveling back up to bore into her eyes, like he was searching for something.

She stammered out a greeting, feeling entirely out of her depth and foolish. “H-hello.”

A corner of his mouth quirked upwards in what she might have called surprised amusement, if she’d been in full possession of her faculties. As it was, she was barely cogent of having spoken, let alone able to process the facial expressions of this… of him.

She took a small step backwards; he followed. She had the advantage of knowing the woods well, but he apparently moved at the speed of light or something. Still, she had to try. Who knew what was going on inside his head? She didn’t think she’d like to find out.

Taking a deep breath, she whipped around and took off as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her feet from the forest floor.

She didn't get very far. She’d run for all of three seconds before crashing bodily into something impossibly solid, two strong arms coming around her and squeezing hard enough to stop her from squirming away, though she gave it a hearty try.

She took as deep a breath as she could, opening her mouth to let out an ear-piercing scream, but just as she wound up to deliver, the world bottomed out and she dropped into a black void of nothingness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face-to-face!

Rumplestiltskin sighed, casting his eyes towards the ceiling in lament of his luck as the small amount of excess energy from the blink back to the ship cleared. The Earth creature had apparently fainted during the short trip. It was heavier than he’d expected for something so small, and he slung it over his shoulder, moving to the medical bay where the other planetary specimens were stored.

It wasn't an ideal way to take a sample of Earth’s life forms, but snatching it up had been his only option after it had tried to run. Several times. Not very intelligent, then, this species. Whatever it was. He made a mental note to scan the records to see which classification this particular creature fell into.

Likely cattle, but who was he to say? Remarkably similar in form to the beings of his own planet, but he doubted the similarities extended from there.

He was looking around the room for an appropriate place to set it down when he felt a squirming against his shoulder, and realized it might be soon to come out of the fainting spell. He shrugged the creature off and laid it down on the nearest table, frowning when its upper limbs decided to flop about of their own volition.

Were all Earth creatures so ungainly? He picked the flailing limbs and placed them back at its side before reaching over the torso to pull down his bioscanner for a preparatory reading. 

He’d turned the thing on and was selecting the proper setting when a small gasp emanated from beneath him.

It had woken. Lovely.

He fiddled with a few things, adjusting for estimated height (and weight), and attempted to position it over the midsectionn of the creature’s torso, when it was unceremoniously slapped out of his hands.

He looked down, flummoxed, and saw the creature gawping at him with very wide eyes the color of his favorite summer lake. Its chest was heaving and he caught himself staring, fascinated by the movement before a sharp sting bloomed on the side of his face and his head whipped to the side.

It scrambled off the table and looked around wildly for a moment, reminding him of a newly-caged mountain feline, ready to snarl and spit. Perhaps it had young he’d separated it from?

Young or no, it had grabbed one of the more damaging instruments he kept in the med bay; one normally used for the less-delicate task of sawing through bone.

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as he plotted a way to get it off the little brigand, watching with narrowed eyes as it stared back in fear.

“What does it honestly think it’s going to accomplish by waving that around, save for perhaps hurting itself?” He murmured, taking a few slow steps forward, his gaze riveted on the saw.

“I might hurt myself, but I’m sure as hell taking a piece of you with me.”

He stopped cold.

“You can talk?” His brow furrowed, deep confusion contorting his face.

“Of course I can talk! The real question is, what the hell are you and why the hell am I here?” She swiped the saw in a small arc on the last, and he took a step back.

It could talk. Understanding was no big thing; it was customary for ships like his to have an automatic translator built in, for one never knew the folk one would have to bring aboard one’s vessel. He’d happily never had to test it, and quite preferred it that way, until this dust mite came along.

It was more sentient than he’d expected. And now it had a weapon. What to do about that.

He decided to try seldom-used charm. It was sentient, but that didn’t mean smart. He spread his hands, palms up. “You don’t want to use that to hurt little old me.” He fluttered his fingers in the air as he spoke, grinning at the dirt pixie.

“Oh, yes, I do. And you can tuck that slimy charm back where you pulled it.”

_Damn._

He sighed, dropping his hands. “Well, look, I can’t very well just let you try and kill me on my own ship, now can I?”

It’s eyes narrowed. “So this is your ship, then? You came from—from somewhere else?”

He quirked an eyebrow, sneering, flicking a hand at the walls around them. “Yes, the term ‘ship’ tends to imply travel, dearie.”

The lake-colored eyes widened again. “Jesus.”

He wasn’t sure what that was, but he was certain it wasn’t complementary.

Rumple cleared his throat. “Yes, well, now that we’ve cleared up what a ship is, you can go ahead and give me that back.” He pointed a long, elegant finger at the saw, and saw her grip tighten around it. “Or I could take it from you, which I can promise, you don’t want.”

The limb wielding the saw moved closer to its torso. “You can try.”

Brave little sprite, wasn’t it? He smiled evilly. “As you wish.” 

He pressed a small spot low on his inner forearm and disappeared, blinking back into existence behind the tiny thing. He took a split second to enjoy the confusion emanating from it before he trapped it within his arms and hauled it against his front, squeezing tight enough to prevent it from slipping away.

Despite the ear-splitting shriek that nearly deafened him and the incessant squirming, he managed to wrest the saw away without injury to either of them, casting it to the side of the room.

“Will you calm down?” He grunted as he felt a joint connect with his ribs. “I’ll thank you to stop trying to puncture my lungs, as well. I’m not going to hurt you!”

“Oh, why didn’t you say so before? That would have saved loads of trouble!”  
  
“Really?” He pulled back in surprise.

“Nope!” It stomped on his instep, though the blow was mostly absorbed by his thick boots.

He sighed, picking up the wriggling figure like a sack of root vegetation and throwing it back over his shoulder. More falling limbs and what felt like fists pounded his back.

“If you keep doing that I’ll have to inject you with a sedative.” The flailing paused before starting up with greater fervor. “Using a very painful needle.”

The creature went limp and he felt a moment of relief before he heard what sounded like sobs. A very _female_ sound if he wasn't mistaken.

Something clicked in his brain and he set the creature back down, gripping her upper limbs and staring into her face. Small of stature and form, soft, shaped roughly like a time glass. And now crying.

Bloody hell.

“Are you a female?” He felt ridiculous asking, but he had to know. It was remarkably similar in body to the females of his planet.

It—she—sniffed miserably. “Are you going to-to _probe_ me?”

“Probe—what in the name of the gods—just answer the question. Are you female?”

She nodded before dissolving into more sobs. “Are you g-going to kill me?”

He released her abruptly and she stumbled back a step. “No, that’s—it wasn't part of the research.” He looked away, moving to pick up the discarded bone saw.

“Research? I’m a _test_ subject?”

She’d moved from hysterical sobs to rage in a very short span of time, he thought. Female indeed. He turned back, tossing the saw into a nearby sink in exasperation. “Well why else would I be on a gods-forsaken backwater planet _lightyears_ from my home?”

Her face turned mutinous. “How dare you. We are _not_ a backwater planet.”

He scoffed, flicking a hand in the air. “Please. The initial life readings were as basic as you can get before you reach ooze. What was I to expect?” He smiled nastily at her. “Your manners certainly aren’t helping your case.”

She practically sparked with anger, her upper torso heaving again in that way that oddly distracted him. “Why does it matter if I’m female?”

He tore his gaze back up to her eyes. “It—it matters because there is different protocol for female…subjects.” He waved his hands as if to dispel the foolish question of hers. “Standard procedure.”

She crossed her arms and he noticed for the first time how low the front of her garment was and how the motion she made created a pleasant-looking little valley between her limbs. He shook himself.

“And if I say no?”

The word brought him up short. Hearing “No” wasn't something to which he was accustomed. Likely because his subjects didn’t normally posses the ability to speak. Still, it wasn't a pleasant feeling to be told no.

He turned to her, glaring her full in the face, and took a few steps towards her, confident now that the weapon had been discarded. “Then I’ll pluck some other being from the tiny blue marble you call home and experiment on them instead.”

She paled. He’d struck some nerve in her, and seeing weakness, attacked.

“I could find a male, the protocol is much different for males. Much more…lenient.”

Her face suffused with color and she lowered her arms, her hands turning to fists at her side.

“I’ll kill you myself before I let you touch anyone else here.”

“Then will you consent to being my subject?”

She tilted her head. “You won’t abduct anyone else from Earth? I have your word?”

He placed a hand over his chest. “You have my word.”

She glared back at him, assessing, and then nodded. “Then I’ll go with you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello! Is anyone still out there or have we all died since I haven't updated since February? :D
> 
> This thing continues to be weird and I have no idea where it's going. Enjoy!

Belle followed him down a long corridor, glancing around her at the plain walls. After nearly coming to blows in that strange medical-looking room and answering his weird questions about her gender, he’d just swept out, apparently expecting her to follow him.

She’d done so because what other choice was there? The ship looked convoluted enough to convince her she’d have a hell of a time getting out on her own, and that thing he did where he blinked in and out of existence made her wary of how far his capabilities went.

Not wary enough to keep her mouth shut, however.

“Are you a male of your species?”

His steps faltered ever so slightly, but he kept walking. “Yes.”

“Is there something special about males? Is that why there are different research protocols for them?”

“No.”

“Then it’s your females? They are the ones who are different in a way that requires caution?”

He stopped abruptly, emitting a loud sigh, and she nearly collided with his back due to her momentum.

“Do you always ask so many,” he turned to face her, his eyes widening slightly as he beheld her nearness. “—questions?”

Anger momentarily won out over fear. “Yes, I do. Especially when dealing with the creature who abducted me,” she sassed.

He narrowed his eyes and twirled a finger at her as he took a small step backwards. “You’re quite mouthy for a lower life form.”

“And you’re rude.” She crossed the short space he’d made between them, nearly poking him in the chest as she pointed in turn. “I’d be so much more amenable to what you’ve  _ asked _ of me if you'd be a bit nicer about it.”

He watched her with a slight sneer as she spoke, and she dropped her hand, gulping as he stepped forward into her personal space. He loomed over her, glaring with those strange eyes. Belle refused to look away, ignoring the skitter of sensation that chased down her spine. His pupils dilated, the air between them growing tense with peculiar challenge until he suddenly moved, breaking eye contact to turn and continue down the long hall.

“Nevertheless,” he said, flinging a hand up and gesturing elegantly in the air, “you agreed so the hows and whys don’t particularly matter anymore.” He stopped in front of a nondescript door, waving his hand over an inset panel in the wall. The door slid back to reveal a modest little room with a single bed and a few oddly-shaped light fixtures. What looked to be a shuttered window was at the rear of the tight space.

“Well, go on. This will be your living quarters for the duration.”

She gave him a wry glance. “So there’s an expiration date on this, then?”

He glared at her, gesturing for her to enter with a slightly impatient wave. 

She moved inside slowly, wary that he’d shut the door and trap her. She felt his eyes on her as she traversed the narrow room and turned to meet his gaze directly, taking a deep breath.

“I have questions.”

He rolled his eyes. “More questions, you mean. I’m not in the mood.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he raised one long-fingered hand. “I still need to find out if there’s a compatible fuel source on this planet of yours and gods only know how long that will take.”

Belle crossed her arms. “Fine then. What kind of fuel does your ship use?”

He snorted, amusement tinting his voice and that nasty little smile sneaking back onto his face. “You wouldn’t be able to grasp it’s functionality.”

She glared hard at him. “There you go being rude again. I don’t need to grasp how it works, I need to be able to tell you if we have it on this planet.”

He raised an eyebrow, then turned and began to walk out the door. She jolted forward, a hand outstretched. “Wait!” she cried, crossing the small room in a few steps, but he ignored her, the door sliding shut behind him.

Belle hit the door before she registered it was shut and when she realized, fury bloomed in her chest.

“You can just lock me up in here!” She shouted, putting her rage into her voice. She tried in vain to find a mechanism to get it to open for her, scanned the room for a similar panel to the one she remembered was on the outside wall. Finding nothing, she let out a frustrated scream and kicked the door as hard as she could. 

All that earned her was a blast of pain in her foot; she had forgotten her shoes were still out in the woods. She cried out and limped over to the bed, assessing for any damage she’d caused herself, her eyes brimming with pained tears. Finding no serious injury, she collapsed backwards on the bed and rolled over, stuffing her face into the pillow and smothering a few frustrated screams.

When Belle had yelled away a bit of her rage, she slowly sat back up and wiped a hand over her face, scanning the room while she did so. 

All it held was the narrow bed and the strange light fixtures that looked like chunks of translucent stone affixed to the wall. No beside table or lamp, no other furniture though she wasn't sure what else could really fit such a narrow space. It was obviously meant for sleeping and nothing more. She couldn't find a light switch and wondered how the fixtures even worked. Some kind of touch mechanism, maybe, like the panel outside the door?

She turned to the window above the bed, taking it its normal-looking shutters, bits of light peeking in here and there. While there was no pull or twist to open them that she could see, they were pliant enough to part when she reached out to touch them. 

Belle moved to her hands and knees and crawled closer to the window, pushing her fingers in between two of the slats to peer out. She could only see the surrounding forest, empty save for her captor prowling around with some kind of oblong instrument in his hands.

Her stomach flipped when she saw him and she narrowed her eyes, feeling a rush of aggravation all for him.

He suddenly turned to look at her, as if he’d sensed her ire, those piercing, odd-colored eyes zeroing in and she yanked her fingers back with a start. She scooted back on the bed, heart thumping heavily from the jolt of adrenaline as being caught staring, so to speak.

She waited for what felt like a few minutes before daring to look outside again. She gingerly pried open the slats and peered out, but saw nothing more than the green of grass and trees and watched as a gentle breeze made the leaves flutter on the branches.

“Looking for something?”

She shrieked in fright at the unexpected intrusion, scrambling to turn around and face him as she shoved herself back towards the window. Her chest heaved as she tried to calm her wits. He smirked at her, obviously pleased at having scared her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She yanked down her dress from where it had slid up her thighs as she had moved back towards the window. “You can’t just—just  _ blip _ in here when you feel like it!”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s my ship, dearie. I can go where I please.”

She scowled at him. “Why did you lock me in here? What if I had to use the bathroom, or got sick ,or was hungry, or—“

“Are you suffering from any of those needs?” He sounded almost bored, running those strange eyes over her with disinterest.

“And what if I were?” She retorted, glowering at him.

“Then I would see that you were attended to.” He said, as if it were obvious, as if she could have walked out of the room and found him on her own. She ground her teeth.

“And how could I tell you if I needed something when you’ve locked me in here like some prisoner?” She gestured to the small room around her.

He scoffed. “Is all of your species so dramatic?” He gestured to himself. “I came back personally to see if you needed anything, and this is the thanks I get?”

Belle moved to her knees, wanting to be at a better high to fight with him. “You barged in without warning.”

He flicked a hand. “Again, my ship.”

She pointed at him. “You are an overbearing ass. What if I had been…” She faltered for an excuse. 

“Been what, dearie? Asleep? Dead?” He supplied, sarcasm dripping from his words.

She growled in frustration. “Oh my god,  _ no _ , you big jerk. How about indecent? Or even naked? What about that? Does your code of experimentation ethics account for privacy violations?”

They stared at each other for a moment as he absorbed what she had said. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he narrowed his eyes and levied a pointer finger at her. “Are you hungry or not?” The light mockery was gone from his voice, in it’s place was a roughness that skittered down her spine.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

He pulled back. “Good.” His hands fidgeted at his sides for a moment before he spoke again. “I’ll take you to get some nourishment. I assume you don’t want to…?” He waved a hand in the air.

“Blip? No. I’d rather walk.” She added belatedly, “Please.” 

“Very well.” He turned, waving a hand over a spot on the wall near the door, and another panel appeared from nowhere. One touch of his hand and the door slid open in a noiseless glide.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Belle growled through her teeth.”That was there the whole time?”

“Not for you.” She could  _ hear  _ him smirk and used a considerable amount of her remaining willpower to keep from doing anything more than letting out a long, slow sigh through her nose. 

He turned, clasping his hands in front of him and regarding her with a curious expression, his overlarge eyes ever so slightly narrowed on her face, as if she were a puzzle he’d be delighted to solve.

She scowled at him, crossing her arms. “What.”

He shrugged, his face transforming to the picture of innocence. “Nothing. Shall we?”

He gestured to the open doorway and she climbed down from the bed, giving him a haughty look as she passed him.

She heard a quiet chuckle follow her as she walked out, the warmth of it curling around her and making her skin tingle. Belle shook herself mentally, willing herself to get a grip and focus on the necessities. Food first, then she’d ask to be shown the bathroom, then how the panel in her room worked and then…

Well, one step at a time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shit is so weird.

Belle’s eyes widened in astonishment as she took in the cavernous room her captor referred to as ‘the canteen’. She stopped at the doorway while he kept moving into the room, his steps unhurried. 

“Wow.” Her voice echoed slightly and she blinked, looking around.

Brushed chrome surrounded them along with a series of intimidatingly high tables and stools. She eyed them warily, wondering if she was going to have to climb up in order to sit. She realized the stools were likely perfect for his height and he wouldn't see her problem.

She decided to cross that ungainly bridge when she came to it and looked around again, noting the smooth sections inset in the walls, demarcated in a way that suggested cabinets to her.

It almost looked like—

“Doctor Who,” she breathed.

His steps halted and he turned to face her, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

She waved a hand around her to encompass the area. “This. I-it’s like something out of Doctor Who, bopping around space and time in his TARDIS, but you never see him eat anything and I imagine his canteen would look a lot like this.” She let out a gentle huff of embarrassed laughter as she caught his questioning look. “It’s…it’s kind of neat.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can keep prattling on about…whatever it is you're yapping about, or you can eat. Which would you prefer?”

Rolling her eyes, she moved towards him, some small part of her noting the careful step back he took when she got close. “You’ve never heard of Doctor Who?”

He gave her a studiously bored look. “No, I have not.”

“In your vast technological advances, no one has _ever_ brought The Doctor to your attention?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No. What do you eat?” he said, and she could hear the exaggerated patience in his voice.

She ignored him, intent on educating. “Doctor Who is about an alien who travels the universe in a ship that is bigger on the inside than on the outside.”

“How delightful for him.” He flourished a scaly hand. “Whatever has this to do with me.”

Belle frowned, letting out a disbelieving scoff. “Have you not noticed _your_ ship?” She flung her arms out wide, an excited smile spreading across her face. “It’s the same thing!”

He pursed his lips, closing his eyes on a quick sigh. When he opened them again, his gaze pinned her like a butterfly under glass and she lowered her arms, her joyful smile melting away.

“What. Would you like. To eat,” he ground out.

Belle blanched. _Right. Silly me._ She had forgotten in her excitement that she was a captive. Any instant comparisons she’d formed between this alien and her beloved television Doctor were as fictional as he was. Summoning her haughtiest look, she thrust her chin in the air, glaring directly at him.

“A hamburger, french fries, and an iced tea, please.”

“Fine.” He whirled on one heel and marched towards the side of the room, and another jaunty wave of his green-gold hand brought out a thin rectangle of glass that seemed to be suspended in air. She crept a bit closer, trying to peer around him for a better glimpse at the strange technology.

“How does it just stay in the air like that?”

He jumped as if he hadn’t noticed her creeping up next to him. 

“Ah…it…” He cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” She countered, raising an eyebrow at him. She could swear his green-gold skin paled the tiniest bit at her nearness and a corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. “I have a big imagination, I’m sure I can picture it.”

His mouth opened and closed for a moment before he turned hastily back to the panel, frantically typing.

“It’s a series of electromagnetic waves that keep the device aloft.”

“Even when the ship is off?” Her curiosity piqued, she craned her neck further to watch him type what appeared to be invisible keys.

His fingers stalled for a heartbeat before picking up again. “My ship doesn’t turn off. Not really, at any rate.” He tapped a few final keys and looked up, Belle’s eyes following his. She was surprised to see a screen suddenly appear in the panel directly in front of them, and what seemed to be a menu in a language she couldn’t ready splashed across it’s screen.

“How come?” She asked distractedly as the menu took on a life of its own and started pulling selections in to a bulleted list.

She heard him sigh and glanced up at him. His amber gaze was narrowed on the screen, irritation curving his mouth.

“What else do you eat?”

She pulled a face. “Lots of things, why?” She heard the tapping of his long nails against the floating glass once more and something clicked in her mind. 

“Oh my god… your ship doesn’t know what a hamburger is, does it?” She said, amusement creeping into her voice. “Oh, that is _precious_.” 

She clamped her mouth around a snort but it escaped anyway. His irate gaze swiveled to her, retribution promised in the slant of his scowl, and it was too much for her to keep back the giggles bubbling up and begging for escape.

She tried to stifle her laughter behind her hand but it was useless. A giggle fit had caught her and she needed to let it ride. But each time her eyes returned to his face, the fit started all over again until he’d apparently had all he could stand.

“Enough!” He growled through clenched teeth, and she managed to quiet her laughter down to a much less dangerous level after a moment. 

“S-sorry. It’s just…you’re this being from across the universe, from _lightyears away_ as you said, and yet you have no idea what Doctor Who or hamburgers are!” She bit her lip on a grin.

“I fail to see the humor in this.” He crossed his arms petulantly, glaring at her. “Why should I keep up with the habits of a planet that I heretofore had no knowledge of beyond what my ship provided before I crashed?”

She let out a small laugh. “Alright, fine. I’ll take pity on you. This time.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

She gave him a speaking look, then gestured to the keyboard. “I’ll describe what a hamburger is, if you’ll please start typing.”

His perpetual scowl deepened and he shouldered her to the side and hunched over the keyboard.

She sighed, glancing around herself briefly, her marvel at the sheer size of the room still throwing her for a loop, before describing her meal to him.

“So, a hamburger then.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another turn on this weird-ass road.
> 
> Brief use of a sedative at the end.

She was a brave little thing, he’d give her that. She had an excellent way of pretending not to be scared witless but he could see it lurking in the corners, a tiny shadow that would likely grow larger with time and experimentation.

He frowned to himself, aware of a nagging voice in the back of his head that made him feel…guilty? Why should he feel guilty? He hadn’t done anything yet, and besides, the protocols were different for females, so she’d very likely survive.

He heard a distinct noise of pleasure behind him and looked over his shoulder from where he stood at the console giving directions for his own meal.

She’d closed her eyes as she took a bite of that _thing_ she wanted to eat and looked for all the world like a child with its favorite treat. A smile rose unbidden and tugged at the corners of his mouth. He hastily turned back to the glass pad, irritated with himself. She was obnoxious and nosy and his test subject. She would be fed, watered, and put back until she was required, like all the rest.

His meal was much quicker to dispatch, having been prepared several times before and for efficiency rather than pleasure like the kind _she_ seemed to be taking. Bowl in hand, he turned around, his conviction from the previous moments faltering as his gaze landed on her once more. 

He should retreat to the navigation deck and scan the area for potential fuel sources while the ship repaired its external damage. 

He should hurry her meal along and put her right back in her room so she wouldn't distract him with her questions and her large eyes. 

Instead of those wise choices, Rumplestiltskin did the foolish thing and walked towards her.

She’d managed to scale one of the absurdly tall stools without his help, and he wondered if in her stubbornness she ever thought of asking him. Likely not, strange creature that she was. He stopped by the table, enjoying the moment she realized he was there and the echoing discomfiture he saw in her eyes as she noticed him looking at her cheeks full of food, like one of the burrowing rodents of his home world who used their mouths as transport for the sustenance stored for the hibernation months.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she had the grace to avert her eyes as she chewed and swallowed.

“I’m glad to see that orifice is used for eating and not just for being a nuisance,” he said, flicking a finger at her. He felt the scowl she levied at him as he balanced a foot onto the stepping bar of the stool and levered himself up to the seat with practiced ease.

“What are you doing?” 

He looked up, seeing the horrified expression in her eyes as she beheld him and his bowl, one of her ‘french-fries’ poised near her gaping mouth as she stared at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a lackwit; I’m eating, as are you. I see no reason to avoid sentient company, even if it is as annoyingly curious as you.” 

He twirled the spoon in the mixture. “Unless it offends your delicate earthling female sensibilities to eat with me, but to that I would say, I don’t care.” He popped a spoonful into his mouth and swallowed, sending her a nasty grin.

Her eyes lowered to the bowl in his hand and she grimaced. “What _is_ that?”

“My meal.”

“It looks…” she trailed off. “How does it taste?”

“Taste?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s enzymatically and nutritionally sound and meant to be eaten for digestive efficiency, not _played_ with or whatever it is you’re doing to your food.”

She let out an indignant huff. “I’m not playing with it; it tastes good.” She shoved a french fry into his face. “Food should taste good. Try this.”

He recoiled, nearly knocking his bowl over. “What in the name of the gods is wrong with you? Get that away from me!”

She pulled her hand back. “Alright, I’m sorry.” She popped the offending food into her mouth. “It’s just a fry, wouldn’t kill you to try one.” She stopped chewing, wide eyes darting to his. “Or would it?”

He scowled. “You won’t get out of our deal that easily, dearie. No, it won’t kill me.” He tucked back into his meal, trying to ignore the alluring scents emanating from hers. His food was meant for peak health and wellness and was perfectly acceptable, creating minimal waste and requiring limited energy to digest thereby not depleting any of his body’s stores, only adding to his continued stasis.

Her’s just… smelled delicious.

“Alright, fine. I will try one of those things.” He stretched out a hand, palm up.

She raised her eyebrows at him with a snort. “I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me?” His brow lowered dangerously over his eyes. “Do you forget what happened the last time you said no to me?”

She paled and he saw her throat work around a swallow. 

“You don’t have to be such a bully about it. Here.” She threw the fry at him and it bounced off his chest, landing on the table.

That ridiculous, guilty feeling poked at him again but he bit his tongue before an apology could fall accidentally out of his mouth. He picked up the food she’d thrown and gave it a curious sniff, frowning before sliding off the stool and marching back to the food dispersion panel.

He waved his hand across the panel to the immediate left of the menu screen and a small tray slid out. He placed the fry on the tray and as it slid back into the wall, he pulled up a different menu than before, tapping a few keys on the small glass tablet.

A few moments passed before the screen switched, the results of the test confirming his suspicions and he read the text avidly, his frown ever-increasing the more information he absorbed.

“Are you aware that you’re putting something into your body that is not only devoid of nutritional value but harmful as well?” He marched back to her, glowering, and snatched the tray with the remnants of her meal on it, moving to a further corner of the room as he spoke. He ignored her cry of outrage. 

“You will no longer eat this; you’ll eat what I prepare for you so that all experimentation can be conducted without risk of irreparable damage before results can be obtained.” The bin slid out from the wall with another wave and he tossed the remains into it. “The only thing this _food_ is good for is being repurposed as fuel for my ship.”

He’d intended to turn around and blink her back to her quarters but was stopped in his tracks as a frustrated scream pummeled his eardrums.

“You _unmitigated_ asshole!”

He froze, watching as she none-to-gracefully slid off her stool to the ground, and made a beeline for him. Survival instinct flared up and begged him retreat, but he was powerless to do anything but watch her cross quickly to him in ground-eating strides, her thunderous expression promising his dismemberment and possible murder.

She stopped in front of him, close enough for him to feel her breath as it heaved from her body, her bright blue eyes narrowed to near slits in her rage.

“First, you abduct me.” She began ticking his sins off on her fingers. “Then, you threaten my species. Then you lock me up, and _then,_ you take food away from me and claim it’s not up to your standards!” 

She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, staring up at him, a tiny maelstrom, and yelled. “ _What the hell is your problem!?_ ”

His jaw worked as he tried to come up with a rebuttal to her statements, but all it accomplished was to make him feel like a dying fish.

She huffed an outraged laugh. “I don’t know why I even agreed to this. I must be stupid. And maybe you’re going to kill me now, I don’t know, but I do know that I’ve been here less than a day and I’ve already come up with about a hundred ways to…to…”

She stopped and he saw her lower lip wobble dangerously.

_Oh, no._

Fat tears began rolling down her cheeks and she dropped her head into her hands, bursting into sobs.

He groaned internally, hands flexing at his sides as his instinct to retreat started strongly suggesting that he should probably _run away until the female had stopped crying_. But then she gave a particularly pitiful whine and something in his gut clenched.

Guilt. That ridiculous guilt, rearing it’s stupid, unwanted head again.

He watched in horror as his hand reached out, seemingly of its own accord and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

“There, there. Don’t cry… female.” He grimaced, realizing for the first time that he didn’t know her name.

He removed his hand. “Can you, ah, stop… now?”

She raised watery eyes at him, misery wrinkling her brow. Her nose was red and leaking and her lower lip trembled so hard he had a moment’s worry it would fall off her face. Her features crumpled once more and he shoulders heaved with the force of her sobs.

Good gods, she was going to dehydrate herself at that rate. How the hell—

His thoughts screeched to a halt as he felt her thump her head against his chest and leave it there. He dimly noted that she barely came to his chin. He felt her tears seep into the fabric of his shirt and grimaced.

Unsure of what to do with his hands, they fluttered nervously at his side.

“What are you doing?”

She clutched at the fabric of his shirt with her small hands, her sobs muffled in his chest and whatever excuse he had for a cardiac muscle gave a heavy throb.

He made a mental note to add to his records that Earth creatures were both ungainly and volatile.

“I just wanted to have an adventure!” she whined piteously around her sobs. “I wanted to see the world a-and thought space would work, too! Now I’m trapped and you’re never going to let me go and I have _plants_ that need to be watered!”

He frowned, feeling quite sorry for the little dust mite, despite his higher nature. She kept clutching at his shirt and crying and he felt the sudden desire to wrap his arms around her. It seemed a plausible enough way to comfort, he supposed. And theoretically comfort would lead to the cessation of crying, so it was worth a shot.

And some traitorous part of his brain chose that moment to point out the physical similarities between the females of his planet and this female and that perhaps holding her might provide a similar pleasure.  
  
He shoved the thought back down, focusing on his hypothesis instead and carefully wound his arms around her.

She stiffened. “What are _you_ doing?” 

“Trying to provide comfort.” He frowned; Had he been incorrect? Were earth females not a tactile sort of organism like his home planet females? It would be an honest mistake; they were quite similar if this one was anything to go by.

But no, he hadn’t been mistaken; she gradually relaxed in his hold, even going so far as to snuggle closer as her sobs continued.

This was an… unexpected development.

His shirt was soaked, the rare silk probably ruined, and she was halfway through a tantrum like an infant. So be it. 

“Time for bed.” He managed to keep his words gentle, finding the idea of handling her like a crying child far less intimidating than dealing with a distraught, mature female. He managed to keep his arms around her as he blinked them back to her room, the short journey confusing her enough to stop her sobs and he gave a short sigh of relief.

“Sit, and don't move.”

She obeyed, to his surprise, and he quickly blinked to the medical bay, grabbed a sedative, and blinked back. She was still sitting upright, sniffling miserably and looking like a lost child.

"This will help you sleep." He coaxed her to lie down, taking one of her arms and injecting a portion of the sedative. She barely seemed to notice, her eyes closing swiftly as she slipped into a drugged sleep.

He straightened, running a hand over his face and glancing down at his shirt. He’d been right— ruined by the wet stains of her tears and what was probably facial mucus. He groaned in disgust; it had been his favorite shirt. Well, at least it she didn't appear to excrete acidic fluids, so there was that to be thankful for.

He gazed around her room, frowning as he realized how small it really was. It would be no real hardship to adjust it a bit while she slept to provide her with a few more… comforts. Perhaps that way she wouldn’t pester him with questions about where things were. She might be more comfortable that way as well, but that was neither here nor there.

She would definitely _not_ be getting close enough to ruin any more of his clothing, though.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple the interior decorator. 
> 
> Bathtime!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know how weird this is, I don't need to keep saying it. I will say that if you're still here, you're a saint.

Belle had never before truly understood the phrase “mad enough to spit nails” but suddenly found herself with a wealth of comprehension as she stared out her window to see earth, _her_ _home_ , rapidly disappearing from view as they shot into space.

He’d apparently found a fuel source without her help.

She didn't have an expletive strong enough to encompass her feelings for him in that moment. Her breath came in angry pants and she let out an enraged growl, flopping back onto the bed and rolling over to muffle herself into the mound of pillows. Who even needed that many, anyway? She could only sleep on one at a time and—

_Wait._

Her head jerked up. Pillows? _Plural?_ Since when?

She glanced around, seeing blue damask silk where before there had been neutral beige. The bed was somehow wider, as was her window. She sat up, her sluggish mind not quite catching on as she darted her eyes around the room, seeing a frosted glass door at the far end opposite the entry and a few feet past that some kind of shallow pedestal set in front of a mirror.

He’d… redecorated while she’d been asleep. Her hands suddenly shot to her middle, feeling around and she sighed in relief. She was still wearing the clothes in which she’d been abducted, torn tights and all. She pushed the covers back, her senses relishing their softness, and gingerly swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching plush carpet in swirls of cream and blue.

What the hell was going on?

Belle moved to the frosted glass door, fervently hoping that it would open for her and that behind it was a bathroom. But how did it work? She remembered he’d waved a hand over the walls each time he wanted a particular task handled and decided to try her luck. 

She passed a hand over a waist-high section of the wall to her left. Nothing. She tried the same on her right, but still nothing. 

She pulled her arms back, thinking. Maybe both at the same time? She leaned forward and put both hands on the wall.

Zilch.

Well, this was just ridiculous. He changed her entire room but didn't leave instructions on how to open the doors? She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, crossing her arms in irritation. She had one more idea and if it didn’t work, well, she’d have to raise some kind of holy terror to try and get him down there; she hadn’t spotted any sort of communication device among the updates he’d made to the room, so yelling would have to do.

“You have to touch it to enter.”

She jumped and let out a yelp, whirling around with a scowl.

“Why do you keep _doing_ that?!” She placed a hand on her sternum. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Good morning to you, too,” he rejoined, flicking his eyes over her. “A heart attack is highly unlikely for someone of your age.” He fluttered his fingers dramatically in the air. “Though given your rather _unique_ eating habits, perhaps I should reevaluate.”

She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him and instead let her eyes wander over his chosen attire. He’d forgone the scaly coat of the previous day, choosing a claret-colored silk poet’s shirt, paired with a black leather-looking vest and pants. She was surprised to see him wearing boots and a little chuckle escaped her.

“What’s so funny?”

Her eyes snapped back up to his, and she bit her lip against the smile that always seemed to rise when he gave her that particularly irritated look.

“Nothing.” 

He rolled his eyes. “It’s obviously something, you little liar. So what is it.” He spread his arms wide. “Does my clothing offend you?”

She shook her head. “You’re just… dressed like a poet.”

“A poet?” he spat indignantly. “Well… you’re dressed like a street urchin.” He flicked a hand at her. “A very impractical street urchin. Why would you wear such a thing to go traipsing through the woods?”

She frowned, looking down at her dress, fully ready to upbraid and remind him that it was _his_ fault she’d been in the woods in the first place, but a jolt of displeasure recalled her purpose and her head snapped up.

“Wait a minute; who cares about my dress? I’m more interested in why we’re so far off the planet and you didn’t wake me up to let me get any of my things or to at least tell someone where I was going!”

He let out a world-weary sigh and rubbed his temples. “Based on your reaction to me, I doubt anyone on your little planet has ever seen intelligent life before. I doubt any of your friends would have believed you if you told them.” 

He dropped his hands, his voice taking on a conciliatory note. “And I didn’t wake you because the sedative I gave you needs to excise itself fully from the system before one can wake. Otherwise, the side effects are… unpleasant.” He rubbed the fingers of one hand together as he spoke, a gesture she was learning meant either concentration or some kind of strong emotion. She wondered if he felt bad for drugging her.

Well, not _drugging_ , exactly. She recalled the events that led to him giving her the sedative and admitted to herself that she’d probably been better off with it. He _had_ let her know what he was doing and she’d been of sound enough mind to reject if she’d so wished, but still…

“Do you drug all the ladies, or am I just special?”

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling on an exhale, murmuring something about ridiculous females. “No.”

“No, you don't drug them, or no, I’m not special?”

She could see a muscle in his jaw twitch, his large eyes narrowed on her face as displeasure twisted the corners of his mouth.

She held up her hands. “Sorry. That wasn’t very fair.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Well, anyway. You said just touch the door, right?” Belle turned around to face the frosted glass once more, moving a little closer for easier reach.

“Yes.” She heard him shuffle a bit closer to her, the heat of his body warming her back and had a moment’s wonder if his species had a naturally higher body temperature than humans; every time she’d been near him it was like standing near a cozy fire, his heat oddly soothing. 

She shook herself mentally and reached for the door, nearly jumping again as she felt him reach around her and gently grasp her wrist in his hand to guide her to the correct spot. He maneuvered her hand to the place where a doorknob would normally be and pressed her palm against it. 

The door slid smoothly open to reveal the white expanse of a large bathroom, but she couldn't focus on that, not with him still standing so near to her, so warm against her back. Her hand was still clasped in his and a peculiar silence surrounded them as if a whisper would be overly loud in the charged atmosphere. She was too stunned to move; a strange, not unpleasant sensation skittering down her spine.

He pulled his hand slowly back, his warm palm still engulfing hers, and she felt his sharp nose brush lightly against her hair. She turned her head a little towards him.

“Thank you,” she murmured and heard him hum in response.

“You’ll find everything you need in there. I did a bit of research and added a few things to the ship’s code. The door only opens for you.” His voice was low, the normally high pitch leveled into something deep and rich, with a slight rasp to his words.

“You did a lot while I was sleeping,” she said, the softness of her voice matching his.

“I had longer than you may think.” She could hear the smile in his voice and her own lips curved upwards in response. She turned a bit more, her eyes meeting his, and saw his pupils expand as they gazed at one another.

“You know, I never told you my name.”

“No?” His eyes fell to her lips. “No, I don’t suppose you did.”

“You haven’t asked for it, either. Why not?”

He swallowed, pupils widening further as he watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips, and responded in a whisper, leaning closer. “Names have power, dear. Be careful to whom you give yours.”

She opened her mouth, ready to ask what that really meant when their little bubble was popped by the sound of hydraulics hissing lightly as the door slid closed.

They both jumped a bit, and he released her instantly, his face shuttering as he stepped back and averted his eyes, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“All the doors close automatically after a few minutes if not used, ” He said after a moment, his voice over loud to Belle’s ears. He cleared his throat and gestured behind him. “You can open the entry door the same way.” He took a few steps backward, still refusing to look at her, but pointed to the strange little dais across the room. “That’s a wardrobe.”

“Thank you,” she said, still rooted in place.

He nodded, waving a hand awkwardly. “Enjoy your… well, enjoy.”

He blipped out, leaving her standing there, stuck in some kind of weird limbo wondering what the hell had just happened. She turned around after a few moments, coming back to herself, and pressed her hand against the door like he’d showed her. It slid open smoothly again and she slipped inside.

Once the door had closed behind her, she looked around, actually seeing what was in the room this time, and moved to the large tub underneath another wide window, the vast expanse of space dotted with stars there for her viewing pleasure. She took a moment to look out in awe before turning the faucet on to fill the tub. 

She disrobed while it was filling, dropping her clothing on the floor and relishing the feeling of being out of dirty clothes. Towels were piled high on a rack, a shelf held an array of brightly colored bottles near the tub, and a toothbrush and toothpaste waited for her on the sink.

He really had been busy.

She reached for one of the glass bottles and uncorked it. She gave it an experimental sniff, the scent unfamiliar but pleasant, and poured a bit into the filling tub. 

Once it was filled to her liking, she climbed in, twisting her curls into a makeshift knot on the top of her head and tucking the ends of her hair in to keep it in place. She settled back, sighing in bliss as the warm water slid over her skin, and gazed out the window, letting her mind wander where it would.

It slid right back to their… interaction in front of her bathroom door and the feelings that interaction caused. She was baffled, and took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind of the confusion and analyze things rationally.

She was his captive, yet he wasn't treating her like one. She was his test subject, yet he hadn’t laid a hand on her, at least, not in a scientific manner, not yet. He'd transformed her room and added things to his ship’s code, he’d said, and all for her. It spoke of a kindness underneath that scaly, green-gold exterior.

Yet he was obviously very easily irritated by her. It was far too easy and too fun for her to push his buttons but no matter how much she pushed, she found herself unafraid that he'd hurt her. Beyond his word that he’d not kill her (or _probe_ her, as she cringingly recalled saying), she felt unafraid.

She pulled her topknot loose and closed her eyes, sliding down into the water and floating there for a few moments while she kept thinking.

Stockholm Syndrome. That's it, shouldn't she qualify for that? She resurfaced with a frown, wiping the water and bubbles from her face. No, something about that didn’t sit with her. It was too soon for that to set in, right? She couldn't exactly walk out of the ship considering they were in space and she’d die, so technically she was trapped but she didn’t feel like it. 

She also took a peculiar delight in annoying him, and was very easily exasperated by him in turn and surely _that_ didn’t count either.

Oh, how she wished she could talk to Archie. He was her closest friend back home and a therapist to boot. Surely he would know the right answer. She sighed and blew a few bubbles around on the surface of the water. 

Ah, well. Until she could talk to him, she’d have to go with her gut, and it was most certainly not scared in the least.

She leaned back again as her musings turned back to their quiet little chat and his warm, gentle touch on her hand before she’d lifted her eyes to his.

His eyes were even more remarkable up close, the amber color dotted with intriguing flecks of silver. His pupils were large and ever so slightly oval-shaped. They reminded her of one of those desert lizards, the kind that live solitary and harsh lives in an unforgiving atmosphere, skittering across the hot sand eternally looking for food and cool shelter. 

She giggled. He was her own personal lizard, then, wasn’t he? Scaled green and gold with strange pupils, meandering around space all by himself. A space lizard with a penchant for flashy clothing choices. A disco space lizard.

She laughed out loud at the image that conjured, the water splashing cheerfully at her movements. She glanced out the window as her laughter cooled to an amused hum, enjoying the stars as they slid past. Her eyes drifted closed.

Her mind floated on a soap bubble towards how his pretty eyes had lingered on her mouth and she idly wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would his mouth be firm or soft and as warm as the rest of him seemed—?

Her eyes flew open and she sat up quickly, water splashing over the sides of the tub

 _Nope!_ She shoved that thought right back down from where it came. She was definitely _not_ thinking about kissing her captor. That _did_ count as Stockholm Syndrome which would mean she was crazy. And she wasn’t crazy.

Was she?

… _Oh god._ She was. She was crazy.

He was a cranky extraterrestrial of indeterminate age who wanted to experiment on her and she was a tiny, breakable human with a finite life span who bruised like a peach. Best to keep those facts in mind. It wasn’t strange to fantasize about kissing the alien who abducted you and took you to space; many a trashy romance novel was built on less. She would know, she’d read them. It was only bad to _act_ on it, which she absolutely would not be doing.

She lowered her hands, taking a few bracing breaths and clearing her mind. She would focus on cleaning herself, she was in a bath after all, and then she’d explore that weird little dais-and-mirror combination he had called a wardrobe and see what that nonsense was about. 

And she would stop thinking about kissing him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back to the weirdo parade.

Rumplestiltskin blinked to the deck, leaning against his chair to catch his breath; his heartbeat had increased exponentially with her nearness and he’d found himself with very peculiar stirrings in his blood.

Perhaps his last meal had been incorrectly calibrated and a nutrient density was off. He’d have to double check the readings before the midday meal; the last thing he needed was an accidentally degraded amino chain. He wondered if she was similarly affected. Provided he could find the cause of the imbalance, and get her to actually eat the meal rather than whatever disgusting thing her earth-creature sensibilities demanded, she’d be fine as well.

At any rate, his system seemed to be clearing the problem on its own. The strange agitation receded soon enough and he was able to think again. Sighing with relief, he moved to his chair, plucking his tablet from its dock and flicking through to the fuel gauges. He smiled in satisfaction to see the readings in peak performance and congratulated himself on the bit of inspiration that led to his discovery of the exact fuel source he needed.

Who’d have known Earth would be a harbinger of that particular chemical compound, just floating on the surface of their vast bodies of water? He chuckled; the fools hadn’t realized the gold mine just off their own shores, but no matter. He’d been all-too-glad to take what they’d likely not noticed. He set the tablet back down and stood, walking to the sideboard to fetch himself a drink and mull over his present circumstances along with the little backwater pixie that was currently occupying his ship.

He returned to his chair, sinking gracefully onto the comfortable hide and taking a deep sip. He needed to review the research protocols and be certain he was aware of the rules before he began experimentation. With each new species discovery the protocols had a tendency to shift, changing to fit new information, but there were core tenets he couldn't break.

He swirled the liquor in his glass, staring into it thoughtfully before taking a sip. He knew she was a female of her species; it was obnoxiously obvious, plus she’d verbally affirmed it. What he didn’t know was if she was pregnant. Or if she had young.

He choked on the sip he’d taken, nearly spitting it back into the glass as it occurred to him that she might _actually_ have young. She hadn’t said anything about them, though, so perhaps she didn’t. He swallowed, coughing and wiping his watering eyes.  It didn’t matter if she hadn’t said anything, he was duty-bound to ask. And if she did, he’d broken a core tenet: under no circumstances was he to keep a female parental subject under observation for more than one planetary day. From his estimation, an Earth day was similar to a day on his planet, so if she did indeed have young, he would be royally screwed. Literally and figuratively.

He tossed back the rest of his drink, slapping the tumbler back down on the bar and blinked directly into her room. His eyes scanned for her, noting the still-rumpled bedclothes, but he didn't see her in the newly-widened expanse of the space. He reasoned she must still be occupied in the bathroom and frowned. What, by the gods, could she need more than a few minutes to accomplish?

He shook his head, marching towards the bathroom door but stopped short as he remembered he’d coded it to only open at her particular heat signature. He swore under his breath and raised a hand to knock but paused as he heard noise coming from inside the room. He briefly wondered if she was hurt but upon closer inspection realized with a start that she was singing. It was quiet and entirely unfamiliar; not entirely pleasant, though. Something about life on mars, wherever that was.

He paused, his mind working until he realized why the name sounded familiar. Mars, the little red planet behind hers. He rolled his eyes. Well, why wouldn't she know if there was life on Mars? It was practically next door! He huffed, irritated that she was making him waste precious time without even speaking to him, and knocked on the door.

He heard a splash and a squeal of fright before she answered his knock with a shaky-sounding “who’s there?”

He snorted in dry amusement. “We two are the only ones on my ship, dearie,” he called through the thin, frosted glass. “Please come out here, I have a very pressing question that needs to be answered.”

“Can’t you just ask through the door? I haven’t finished yet and I can hear you just fine.”

“What are you doing that is so important that you can’t come out now?”

A pause, and then, “I’m having a bubble bath.”

He frowned, unsure of how literal to take that phrase. “You can finish after you’ve answered my questions. Please come out here as soon as you’re able.” He could have sworn he heard her growl and smiled to himself. The sound of shifting water reached his ears and before too long the door slid open to reveal her in a fluffy white robe, one hand clutching the edges near her neck shut, her wet hair cascading over one shoulder. He flicked his eyes over her face. Something was different about her and he said as much.

“I washed off my makeup.”

He grunted in response, clasping his hands in front of him. “Do you have young?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple question, dearie. Do you have young?”

She clutched the robe tighter near her neck. “No, but why—”

“Are you gestating?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you asking me these things?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

“No, I’m not _gestating_.” She paused. "What a weird question.”

Rumplestiltskin didn’t care to examine the enormity of the relief he felt.  “Thank you,” he said, slipping two fingers under the cuff of his sleeve to reach his lower forearm, intending to transport himself back to the deck, but was stopped by that same annoying inquisitiveness that seemed attached to her like another limb.

“Wait!” She pointed to his arm. “How do you do…that? The blipping thing?”

He arched an eyebrow as his gaze met hers. “I wouldn’t think you’d care to know, dearie. You nearly lost your faculties both times we’ve transported and I don’t care to have yet another good shirt soiled beyond repair because you can’t keep yourself together.”

She let a huff of air through her nose, the sound reminiscent of an irritated bovine. He didn’t think she’d relish the comparison.

“I can so. I was just…just surprised, that’s all. I don’t want a blip-tour of the ship, I’m just curious. We don’t have that…method of travel back home.”

He snorted. “Of course not. Your species is third-rung at best.” He heaved a world-weary sigh, ignoring the scowl that bloomed on her face, and pointed to the wardrobe. “Finish your female hygiene routine and dress. The testing needs to begin soon.”

Her mouth opened and closed, giving her the look of a landed fish and he could practically see the mechanisms in her mind whirring as she searched for away to properly dress him down. He gave her a nasty grin and blinked out of the room before she could find the words.

* * *

 Belle stared at the spot he vacated for a stunned moment before letting out a frustrated curse and whipping around to march towards the strange wardrobe, all complimentary thoughts about His Sparkly Highness burning up in her ire.

She stopped in front of the flat white disc, realizing with a bit of trepidation that it hovered roughly an inch above the floor. Well, it was either stand on that thing and figure out how it worked or wear the clothes she had on when Professor Snarky Britches abducted her. Or go naked. It would certainly surprise him if she showed up bare as they day she’d been born.

Belle blinked. Truly, _what_ was wrong with her? She shoved the thought to the back of her mind. _Focus._ She’d seen other things float firmly in midair without visible assistance on this ship and this contraption was obviously designed for standing, so she should be okay.

Hopefully.

She placed one foot gingerly on the disc and sighed in relief when her footing seemed firm. She stepped up fully and faced herself in the long mirror, waiting, but nothing happened. She looked around for some sort of lever or button and even tried placing her palm against the wall alongside the mirror in case it triggered a mechanism like the bathroom door.

Still nothing.

“How does this work?” She tried a shallow jump, then a larger one, and still nothing. She sighed, resigned to wearing her dress from yesterday and meaning to ask him how it worked, when the white disc started to emit a warm yellow glow. It felt like summer sunshine, tingling pleasantly against her skin, but she was at a loss as to how it had happened. Maybe it was tuned to her like the bathroom door?

The tingling warmth spread up her legs like the luxurious slide of silk across her skin. It traveled up the swell of her bottom and caressed her stomach before moving upwards. Belle’s eyes fluttered closed as the sensation continued up her body to her head where the tingles elicited delicious shivers as they reached her scalp. The light grew brighter, visible through her closed eyelids. Invisible fingers combed through her hair before releasing themselves and letting her locks settle.

The tingles faded and Belle opened her eyes, catching her reflection in the mirror and gasping in surprise. Gone was the fluffy white robe and in its place was a lovely blue sundress with little capped sleeves and a thin black band emphasizing her small waist. Her curls had been pulled away from her face to flow down her back in a shining auburn tumble. Her feet were encased in black heels that felt like cushioned velvet, caressing her soles with every movement. She turned this way and that, admiring the way the hem fluttered around her knees and the color matched her eyes.

It struck her as odd that this wardrobe-thing seemed to be able to understand her personal clothing preferences without her dictating them, but then, she _was_ in a flying saucer heading god-knows-where with a very ornery male of some unknown species whose bark might possibly be far worse than his bite. Or so she’d see.

She was clean, presentable, and sick of being cooped up, regardless of how lovely and large the room had become and decided it was time to take a bit of control back for herself. She walked towards the door, placed her hand on the panel to the side like he’d shown her, and stepped through the doorway into the long hall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short one, kids, but hey.
> 
> Thanks to MarieQuiteContrarie for being the most wonderful beta/friend!

Rumplestiltskin landed square in the middle of his deck and made a beeline for his liquor cabinet once again, irritated at how quickly that little earth mite could make him desperate for a drink. He had intended to review the testing protocol while waiting for her to finish her toilette but a tumbler full of alcohol was far more tempting. If she was anything like the females back home, she’d take a fair bit of time to finish up. He flopped down into his chair with a sigh, the drink sloshing about in his glass. The movement drew his attention and he gazed into the blue liquid thoughtfully, realizing the color reminded him of her eyes—

“What is that?”

He yelped, jerking in his chair and nearly spilling his drink down his front.

“What—how—what are you doing in here?!” He bolted out of his seat, whirling to face her with a startled scowl, the panicked beat of his heart shooting unnecessary adrenaline through his body. 

She stood behind his chair, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, one hand poised in the air between them as if she’d been reaching to touch him.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She gestured behind her. “I thought you’d hear the door open.”

His mouth twisted in embarrassed irritation. “Well, I didn’t. How did you even get in here?”

“Oh, well, I just touched the panel outside the door like you do and it opened.” She raised a hand, smiling at it. “Kind of a neat trick; how does it work?”

He brushed past her with a frustrated growl, moving back to the sideboard. He gave himself a liberal top up and took a large gulp, letting it burn away his discomfiture.

“Is that alcohol?”

She’d moved closer to him and was trying to inspect the contents of his bar over his shoulder. He shifted, blocking the bottles from her sight.

“Why, dearie? Do you not approve?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I’m hardly a teetotaler.”

He raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“Someone who doesn’t drink alcohol.”

“Why would anyone not drink alcohol?”

She scoffed. “Addiction for starters. Do they not have alcoholism on your planet?”

He shook his head. “No. We metabolize quite quickly.”

“So, you don’t get drunk?” She looked surprised and he couldn't figure out why.

“Not usually. If we consume when ill or injured and our bodies are not at peak levels of—“ He broke off, scowling at her.  “Why do you insist on asking so many questions?”

She shrugged. “I’ve always been a curious person. I love learning things and you are definitely a new thing to learn.” She flounced away and he harrumphed into his glass, twisting his features into a petulant frown.

“I’m not a  _ thing, _ ” he mumbled before taking another sip. He watched her meander towards the window and gaze out at the stars as they flew past. She placed her hands against the glass and gave what sounded to him like a wistful sigh.

“Don’t you just love this view?”

He moved to join her, looking out and trying to figure out what was so fascinating to her. “I’ve been accustomed to this since I was a child.”

“So you don't even see it anymore?” She sounded disappointed. 

He shook his head, somehow irritated at her displeasure. 

She shot him a brief, odd look before turning her focus back to space. “Wow.”

“What?”

“It’s just…” she trailed off, seeming to search for words. “If I could see this every day, be among the stars like this, I don’t think I’d ever just get  _ used  _ to it.”

He grunted, looking into his drink and then up to her face,  excitement making her eyes bright and wide . “Does your species get drunk easily?”

She shrugged. “Some more than others. I’m a lightweight, myself. One, sometimes two,” she slashed her hand through the air, “and I’m a goner.”

He chuckled, swirling the small bit of liquor left in his glass before lifting it to his lips, preparing to drain it but stopped. He turned to her.

“Would you like to try?”

She eyed him dubiously, then the glass. “After I just told you I’m easily inebriated?”

He shrugged. “It’s not that strong, but if you’re scared, dearie…” 

She crooked an eyebrow upwards before plucking the glass from his hand. He watched as she sniffed it experimentally before knocking it back. He didn't have to wait long for her reaction. She choked a bit before coughing violently and he could see her eyes water as she instinctively fought the deep burn. One of her hands shot out to grasp his arm as she caught her breath and he blanched at her touch.

She dropped her hand from his arm like it burned her once she’d managed to return her breathing to normal. “That,” she said around a lingering cough, “was a dirty trick.”

“You get used to it.” He gave her a nasty grin.

She scowled at him. “Oh, whatever, spaceman. You’re not half as clever as you think you are.”

“Well, dearie, I’m not the one who drank unknown liquor handed to me by a ‘spaceman’.” He leaned against the glass, watching her mouth twist in revulsion and scoffed. “No accounting for taste, I suppose. You’re wrinkling your nose at high-quality spirits.”

“It tastes like lighter fluid.”

Rumple plucked the glass from her grasp and ambled back to the cabinet. “And this is why your species is barely a step above primordial ooze.” He set down the tumbler. “Now, if you’ve quite finished pilfering from my liquor stores, there is testing that needs to be seen to.”

“So that’s it? You’re not going to say anything?”

He’d begun to make his way to the door, assuming she would follow but stopped in confusion at her words. He turned back. “Say anything? About what?”

She glared at him, one hand at her waist and the other gesticulating wildly around her torso. “This! You haven’t said a thing since I walked in!”

He ran his gaze over her body, an uncomfortable warmth filling his cheeks as he noted her slight but pleasing figure. He collected himself and analyzed what he saw from a scientific standpoint. She seemed to still be in possession of all her limbs and was still capable of breathing, and speaking, more’s the pity, so what was the issue?

And why was everything to do with her so  _ blue? _

“I confess I’m at a loss, dearie. Are you ill?”

She let out a frustrated, feminine growl and rolled her eyes. “But of course, males are the same regardless of their planet of origin. Whatever.” She marched past him, opening the door with a smack of her little hand on the wall and stomped through. Her voice floated back to him from down the hall.

“Well? Are you coming or not?”

He followed, dumbstruck, and a little impressed if he was being honest with himself. She was getting the hang of the ship quicker than he’d thought. And then it struck him. 

The wardrobe. Her clothing. She was wearing different clothing, _ that’s  _ what he was meant to notice. Well, he’d obviously failed that test.

He rolled his eyes, following after her.  _ Females. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the testing begin, and perhaps we could learn each other's names while we're at it?

_Males._ Bloody, insufferable, ridiculous _males!_ Here she was, the lone human aboard an alien space vessel and she’d figured out the weird little wardrobe all on her own without needing to stroke his superiority complex, and he couldn’t even be bothered to give her a nod or smile.

Belle fumed as she stomped down the hallway, getting halfway to nowhere before she realized she didn’t remember where the lab was located. All she recalled were grey-green walls and the bone saw. And the weirdo currently catching up behind her who had thought she wasn’t even sentient life.

She slowed to a stop, her chin high and haughty as she waited for him to pass by.

To her eternal irritation, he stopped and turned to her.

“Forget where you’re going, did you?” He smirked and she wanted to smack the smug little smile off his stupid face.

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me for not recalling where I was first _abducted_ and then threatened with _bodily harm_.” She pursed her lips, keeping her chin high and gesturing down the expanse of the hallway in front of them. “So, after you, my sparkly friend.”

He scowled, shoving a clawed finger in her face. “I do _not_ sparkle, you impertinent dust mote.” He whipped around and marched down the hall. “Now, keep up or I’ll toss you into space and you can fend for yourself out there.”

She smiled at his back. Served him right to get some of his own returned, with interest. Plus, she privately thrilled at their strange back-and-forth. There was an odd rapport between them she couldn’t fully explain, but she had come to thoroughly enjoy poking at him in the short time she’d been aboard.

She sighed through her nose, her thoughts whipping around to snark at her almost as well as he could. Only a day with him and she was comfortable enough to tease the glittery, intergalactic version of a sleeping bear. Archie would have a field day with this when she returned home, whenever that was.

She followed him slowly down the hall, making a mental note to ask him how much longer he was planning to keep her once they were done with the testing he kept going on about. She supposed it would be nice to formulate some kind of plan for when she was going to return to her regular old life.

A thin thread of guilt snaked through her mind, making her feel like a bit of a traitor. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her life back on earth. On the contrary, it was comfortable and cozy, but she still longed for an adventure. Something strange and wild, enough to give her the kind of memories that would thrill her to the end of her days. Her only real variation was making the choice between a cheeseburger and a corned beef sandwich for lunch on Fridays. There had to be more to life, wasn’t there?

A little spark inside her winked to life at the thought, and a voice whispered, there is, and it’s found you.

Lost in her tumultuous thoughts, she didn't notice he’d stopped by the closed lab door and collided bodily with him, putting an abrupt stop to her musings. Her arms windmilled in the air for a split second before she felt his arms grab her in a vice to stop her from falling.

She gasped, instinct preparing her for the fall before her mind registered she was still on her own two feet.

Well, sort of.

They both froze at the veritable embrace, amber eyes locked on blue, his large pupils widening as he gazed down at her, gathered in his arms and nearly bent backward in the position he’d caught her.

“Careful,” he breathed. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and a faint smile flickered across his lips as he let a puff of air through his nose. A clove-like scent wafted over her and she took a deep, unconscious breath. “Wouldn't have figured you for a gentleman.”

She was unceremoniously pulled upright and shoved back and his eyes glittered with annoyance. “I’m not.”

Her thoughts were tossing around her head at the abrupt change in his attitude and she was unable to form a suitable comeback. She glared back and could have sworn she heard him growl before he whipped around and slapped his hand against one of those door panels she was becoming quickly familiar with.

She took a deep breath to clear her head of frustration as they walked into the lab. It took her a moment to register everything she was seeing, but as usual, her curiosity won out.

She’d expected the space to scare her, or at least make her uncomfortable. It was a bit of a shock to find she was mostly wondering what surprise she was in store for next. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t intentionally cause her harm; she recalled him saying something about rules for females and he’d seemed quite concerned about the subject of her sex. It should have made her bristle, his thinking her weak, but it somehow seemed chivalrous instead.

The room was much the same as any lab she’d ever seen, just a darker color scheme with the walls done in a muted grey-green, reminding her of the scales of a Galapagos dragon. Bright neon green lights dotted the walls, shining from the strange little docking stations that held those peculiar glass tablets he kept using. The room was about half the size of his massive canteen, and there were odd medical-looking instruments tucked into indentations in the wall. The colors gave the room an undersea grotto feel and she wondered idly if he liked the water.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he busied himself with one of the tablets, flicking a finger across the screen and tapping in a command. She found him too--too _sparkly_ for this sedate atmosphere. He was too unique in his coloring to move unnoticed about the room, and the gold tone in his skin stood out in stark relief compared to the duller green around them.

He made a few final taps to the glass and a long white table slid out from the wall, hovering in the middle of the lab. It made her jump, pulling her out of her surreptitious inspection of him in the space.

“Get on the table,” he said, his voice flat with eyes still glued to the tablet.

She turned her head slowly towards him, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” she wondered aloud, “I think you’re addicted to those things.” She flicked a finger at the glass in his hand. “All that screen time is going to rot your brain. Or maybe,” she said in mock horror, slapping one hand to her cheek, “it already has.”

He slanted her a look. “On the table, now.”

She sighed. So much for stalling. “You know, you could ask me nicely. ‘Please’ usually works wonders.”

He lowered the tablet, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

“Or,” he hissed, “I could reassemble your molecular structure and turn you into a semi-aquatic amphibian and stick you in a tank.” She blanched and he bared his teeth in a nasty smile. “Up to you, dearie.”

Well, it certainly wasn’t the first time she’d been wrong about him. Doubtful it would be the last. She huffed as she moved to the table and hoisted herself up onto it, keeping a hand on her skirt so he didn’t accidentally get a peep show.

“Thank you.”

She scoffed at him, crossing her arms and one leg over the other, jiggling her foot. “Ok, so I’m on the table, you big bully. Now what?”

* * *

 Rumple looked up from the glass in annoyance only to see her perched dainty-as-you-please on the exam table, her impertinent chin still high in the air, and blew a sigh through his nose. This had been excessively trying and they hadn’t even started yet. His nerves were already half-frayed from her earlier running commentary and that strange interlude in the hallway.

He’d caught her without thinking, some instinct making his arms fly out and catch her before she could fall. The feel of her arms grasping his biceps as her face registered shock had sent a disturbingly pleasant ripple down his spine. And then she’d opened that smart mouth...

He put the tablet back in its base and then rounded the lower end of the table, reaching for the bio scanner where it lay in its base against the wall. She needed to be prone for the initial exam and he didn’t relish the idea of getting her to do that. He pressed his lips together in irritation.

“If you could lay prone on the table, I’d like to start with a bio scan to extract basic data,” he ground out through a clenched jaw. “...Please.”

There. He’d been polite. If she still put up a fuss after that engraved invitation then he’d tie her down or...or something.

To his surprise, she acquiesced without fuss, swinging her legs up onto the table and laying down on her back. He saw her tug at the hem of her skirt and then fold her hands daintily across her midsection. He stared at her for a moment, her long, distractingly bare legs thrown into great relief against the white of the table’s surface. They were made all the longer by the ridiculous high-heeled shoes she was wearing.

She cleared her throat and his eyes shot to her face, an embarrassed flush heating his cheeks at being caught staring, but her eyes were closed. He released a small sigh of relief, positioning the scanner above her middle.

“Is this going to hurt?”

Her voice sounded small for the first time since he’d plucked her off the godforsaken marble she called a home planet. He frowned.

“No. Or, it shouldn’t.” He stroked his chin absently as he searched his memories. “Previous subjects never gave any pain readings from simply being scanned, but they were somewhat lesser life forms compared to you.”

He looked down, expecting to have satisfied her question, but was met with large cerulean eyes filled with no small amount of worry. He felt a stirring of sympathy and was surprised at the sudden desire to assuage her worry.

“It won’t hurt. And if for some reason you find yourself uncomfortable, we can stop.” He waved a careless hand, pulling his eyes from her wide blue gaze. “There are other ways to collect the data I need.”

That was a fat lie. The bio scanner was the only way to establish a perfect baseline upon which to build the rest of his research, but he shrugged the knowledge away. He couldn’t bring himself to inflict pain on her, even imaginary.

It was a damned nuisance having a subject that could emote. It inspired too many... _feelings_ in return.

She inhaled and then let out a long, slow breath through her pursed lips. They reminded him of his species’ particular form of showing affection and he looked away. It was bad enough that her legs were on full display, far too similar to the females of his planet, like everything else he’d seen of hers. If he focused on anything else but the testing, he’d end up having to leave the room in embarrassed disgrace.

He applied himself back to the task at hand, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the scanner as he stabilized its projected path along her body. He set it to auto-pilot and stepped back.

“This won’t take long, just a few minutes, and then we can proceed.” He skirted the end of the table, moving over to a small medical sink near the door.

“Um…so, it doesn’t hurt.” He heard the hesitant relief in her voice and smiled in spite of himself.

“That’s good,” he said, chuckling lightly. He kept half an eye on the results appearing on his tablet as he washed his hands.

“So, I was thinking…”

He waited for her to say more but nothing else came out.

“Always dangerous,” he retorted without heat. He reached for a towel, drying his hands as he walked back over to her. “What about?”

“Well,” she began before taking another deep breath. He saw her chest rise and dragged his eyes to her face. “I still don’t know your name.”

“We’ve been over this, dearie.” He tossed the towel onto the counter, picking the tablet up and checking the scans.

“Yeah, but,” she gave a breathless little laugh, “it’s just so weird to be laid out on a table underneath a floating medical scanner without knowing the name of the person who’s asking me to do all this stuff.” She turned her head towards him, and he saw her smirk at his bemusement. “I’m only counting it as asking because you were kind to me earlier.”

He looked down at the compiling results without seeing them, his thoughts swirling.

His name. Well, he supposed it was only fair to share it. Names had power, yes, but more so the power to cause their owner pain than anything else. Still, he didn’t have to share his entire life story, she hadn’t asked for that. He swallowed down the trepidation and raised his head regally, taking a breath to speak.

“My name is Belle. Belle French.”

His shoulders slumped. _Damn it._ She’d beaten him to the punch. Here he was, prepared to make the personal sacrifice of giving her his name, thus opening himself back up to the kind of ridicule he’d not faced in decades and she couldn’t wait two extra seconds for him to spit it out? It was bad enough the poetic justice of the universe had seen fit to give her a name that was sweet and lilting, perfectly suited to her. A name that stirred something in his heart that had been sleeping, bringing with it a shred of panic.

He collected himself, hiding his discomfiture behind a theatrical, flourishing bow.

“Rumplestiltskin.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just get married already, you f*cking dorks.

Belle’s eyes widened as she watched him complete his little bow. Of all the names she could have expected to come out of his mouth, that one was nowhere near the list.

“Rumplestiltskin? That’s truly your name?”

His nostrils flared but otherwise, his face remained impassive.

“Yes.”

She turned her head, looking back towards the ceiling. “That’s neat.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“I said that’s neat,” she repeated, gazing at the ceiling. “We have that name on Earth, too.”

Silence greeted her words for a few moments and then, “Is it a common name?”

“Common? No.” She shook her head as best she could while still being prone. “It’s the name of a character in a story written a really long time ago by these two brothers. Almost everyone knows it.”

He was silent for a few more moments, long enough that she figured he wasn’t interested in hearing more, before he cleared his throat.

“What, ah…what’s the story?”

Belle smiled. Finally, something in _her_ wheelhouse. Her love for stories, both written and spoken, was the soul of her job.

“It’s about a poor father who tells a king that his young daughter can spin straw into gold.”

“And can she?”

Belle laughed. “Nope. It’s a flat-out lie, and not a very good one, but it’s a fairytale so we suspend our disbelief.” The little machine that had been hovering above her body emitted a soft, pulsing tone and Rumplestiltskin hurried over to pluck it out of the air. Belle sat up, swinging her legs back over the side of the table.

Rumplestiltskin set the scanner back in its dock on the wall and stayed on that side of the room, fussing with something or other.

“Is there more to the story?”

She nodded, turning herself to face him better and tucking one leg underneath the other where she sat on the table. “Yes, there’s a lot more. Our fairytales aren’t really known for their brevity.”

He stood still, adjusting the crimson cuffs at his wrists, and she realized he wanted to hear the rest of the tale. She shook her head at his silent stubbornness. Why couldn’t he just _ask?_

“Would you like to hear the rest?”

His curious eyes belied the nonchalant shrug he gave her question. She tamped down on the answering smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So,” she began again, “the king says, ‘Great, bring her to me and if she can spin as well as you say, she gets to live.’ The father does as the king says but his daughter is very much not ok with this turn of events.”

Rumplestiltskin abandoned toying with his cuffs in favor of lacing his fingers together in front of him as he leaned against the wall to listen. “Of course she isn’t. He made a fool’s bargain, and with his own child, no less.”

Belle nodded. “Exactly. So she’s put in a room with a spinning wheel and straw and starts to freak out when this little man just pops in out of nowhere and asks her why she’s crying.” She gave him a look as if to say, _a bit like you_.

“Little man?” Rumplestiltskin asked with a frown. “Why is he little? And where did he come from? Your species doesn’t have the ability to self-transport.”

“Well, duh,” she said. “He’s a magical being. And he’s little because he’s a goblin. Now let me finish.”

He held up his hands and shrugged in a gesture of surrender. “Apologies, madam.”

Belle inclined her head with mock grace. “Thank you. Where was I…oh, yes! Rumplestiltskin comes to see her and they make a deal. She gives him her necklace in exchange for his help. He spins the straw into gold and the next morning, she gets to live.”

“That seems like an uneven bargain. Why—“

Belle stopped him with a finger to her lips and grinned at his petulant frown.

“The king is suitably impressed, of course, but gives her another room full of straw, this time twice as large as the first. Rumplestiltskin comes again and takes her ring as payment for his spinning. A repeat performance happens the third night: an even larger room with an even larger straw pile but guess what?” She looked at him expectantly.

He shrugged. “She’s run out of tokens, I presume.” He tapped his chin, pursing his lips. “Does she trade her body to this little man instead?”

A shocked laugh burst from Belle, turning into a delighted peal of mirth. “What?! Oh my god, _no_ , you weirdo. She doesn’t have _sex_ with him!” Belle wiped her eyes, her voice thick with laughter. “Why did your mind go _there?_ ”

He looked well and truly puzzled. “If she doesn’t bargain with her body, then what _does_ she do? She hasn’t anything else to give him.”

Belle snorted, still highly amused. “He tells her that if he helps her this one last time, she has to give him her firstborn when she becomes queen.”

“Queen? When in the seven hells was _that_ arranged? Are you leaving things out?” He was so damn cute in his confusion and she enjoyed the sight of him at sea with this foreign concept. Turnabout was fair play.

“I’m not leaving anything out. It’s assumed. This is a fairytale, this kind of stuff happens all the time. A pretty girl is poor but so lovely that a king or prince passing by her hovel falls in love with her and whisks her away to be his wife, and oh, by the way, here are about a thousand tests you have to pass to prove you’re worth my love and kingdom.” Belle rolled her eyes. “These stories were written by men a long time ago.”

“So she becomes queen.” He gestured impatiently. “What next?”

She stared at him. “I cannot believe that in your travels around the universe you have somehow managed to avoid this story.”

“The universe is a large place, dearie.”

She rolled her eyes.“Anyway, she says yes to Rumplestiltskin’s deal, becomes queen, gets pregnant and then refuses to honor their bargain. Rumplestiltskin has a fit, naturally, but allows her three days to guess his name before he comes to collect her child. If she can guess his name, their deal is void. She tries like hell to figure out his name but can’t do it until the final day when her loyal messenger miraculously returns having found the right name.”

“Convenient,” he wryly rejoined.

She nodded. “Fairytales, I’m telling you. Anyway, Rumplestiltskin comes back, she guesses his the name, and he gets so mad that he puts his foot through the floor. In his rage, he pulls too hard on his stuck foot and ends up tearing himself in two and dying from his injuries. And the Brothers Grimm put it in a book for kids. The end.”

He gawped at her. “This is a story meant for children?”

She teetered a hand to and fro. “More or less. Our fairytales were often meant as cautionary tales when they were first created so some semblance of violence is common in each one. And sometimes they make no sense at all. You should let me tell you the story _How Some Children Played at Slaughtering_ sometime. ”

He scowled. “This is horrid. I don’t like that—that _fairytale_. It’s even worse than my own namesake.”

Belle perked up. “Your namesake? Care to share?”

The tablet lit up with a cheerful _ding!_ and he brushed past her to retrieve it. “No.”

She pursed her lips, disappointed. “Well, at least you’re not a magical goblin with enough stockpiled rage to tear yourself in two.” She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically. “Unless you are. Are you?”

He gave her a speaking look then returned his attention to the tablet, letting out a sigh. She laughed.

“Are you relieved you’re not a magical rage-goblin?”

He scoffed. “No, dearie. I’m relieved you’re not gestating.”

She blanched for a moment but quickly recovered. “I already told you I wasn’t pregnant.”

“Yes, but it’s possible you could have been unaware of the conception,” he said absently, waving a finger at her while the rest of his attention stayed glued to the tablet. “You’d not be the first female I’ve encountered who had no idea they were pregnant nearly until giving birth. Though as tiny as you are, you’d likely have been very early in your pregnancy, so I suppose it would have made sense if you’d not been aware.”

She shot him a fish-eyed look, wondering if he was aware of the words that were tumbling out of his mouth. She didn’t care to alert him.

He tapped on the screen a few times before giving a decisive nod.

“Good. All seems healthy.” He set the tablet down before taking a deep breath and facing her once more.

“Are the rest of the fairytales on your planet as unfairly balanced as that one?”

Her head spun at the non-sequitur. “Uh, some of them,” she said slowly. “I don’t know every fairytale on Earth, but some of the ones I do know have a few rare moments of equity among them.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, crossing his arms. “I see. Well, since your readings show you’re in good health, there’s no need for us to delay the testing further. If you’d care to disrobe and lay back down we can get started.”

She blinked. _The fuck?_

She held up a hand, frowning in disbelief. “Hang on. Did…did you just casually tell me to take off my clothes?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Because I’m pretty sure I just heard you tell me to take off my clothes.”

He raised a hand, giving a little nod of his head and her jaw practically fell to the floor.

“Oh, no. No way, buddy. That is _not_ happening.” She shook her head, slashing a hand through the air. “You can just pack that nonsense right back up where you found it.”

She jumped down from the table and made a beeline for the door, letting out a startled yelp when he grabbed her arm to halt her progress. She whipped around to face him, enraged.

“You had better let me go if you want to keep that arm attached to your body, asshole.” She tried to yank her arm away but his grip was like steel.

He frowned, puzzlement apparent on his face. “Why are you so upset?”

She scoffed. “Are you fucking serious?!” He nodded, his eyes widening, and it gave her pause. She stopped trying to pull her arm from his grasp, eying him suspiciously.

“You actually have no clue what the issue is?”

He looked down at where his hand curled around her arm, releasing her as if she’d burned him. “No. What’s the problem?”

She let out a frustrated grumble. “Rumplestiltskin, you literally just told me to make myself…physically vulnerable in front of a perfect stranger.” She threw her arms wide, giving him a pleading look. “You don’t think that’s really weird?”

He fidgeted where he stood, rubbing the fingers of one hand together as he avoided her gaze.

“We’re not strangers.”

She laughed without humor. “Uh, yes. Yes, we are. Just because we’ve been arguing like…like an old married couple or something doesn’t mean we’re not strangers. I’ve been here one day!”

He looked up at her then and she was shocked to see what looked like hurt in his eyes. Something in her lurched like the floor had fallen out from under her. Hurt? What the hell? She was his experiment, not his friend. He’d been quite clear on that score.

She puzzled over the strange circumstances as they stood there, the silence growing awkward. He’d gone back to fussing with his cuffs, his long hair hiding his face as he kept his eyes down, looking for a moment like the loneliest soul in the world.

_Oh._

Realization hit her square in the face. That was it, wasn’t it?

It was the surrealist moment she’d experienced in the short time she’d been on the ship but it suddenly made complete sense. He’d never once hurt her, he’d made her room much more comfortable, he’d been snarky but seemed glad to talk to her, even as much as he’d complain about her chattering. He wanted her company, or at least the company of another sentient being.

It was a feeling she understood all too well. Sympathy welled inside her and she took a small step closer to him, seeing him stiffen a bit at her nearness.

“Rumple,” she murmured, the shortening of his name coming startlingly easily to her tongue, “are you lonely?”

His head jerked up, his eyes wide and vulnerable for a split second. “What?”

She gave him a gentle smile. “You’re all by yourself on this big ship.” She reached out a hand to touch one of his. “Is that why you took me?”

He jerked away from her before she could make contact with him, a black look on his face. She took an unconscious step back.

He tossed his head, the black look melting into a nasty smile, and flourished his hands in the air. “Lonely,” he drawled, mocking her. “I’m not lonely, dearie. I am bored. Bored with your mindless drivel and the ridiculous delays in my research.”

He slinked over to the bed, whirling around and giving it a little pat, beckoning to her with that same slimy smile and the wave of a hand.

“Now, be a good…whatever it is that you are and get back up here so I can do my work.” His voice slid into a menacing growl on the last few words, the hand patting the table curling into a fist.

He’d shifted from enraged to impish back to enraged in the span of seconds. She felt a pinprick of fear but refused to give into it. _Do the brave thing_.

She took a slow, deep breath, eyeing him from across the room. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“That was a nice little tantrum. You want a minute to calm your ass down, there, spaceman?”

She thought she saw him deflate a bit, and took a few steps forward into his space.

“What did I say about using your words?”

He bared his teeth at her dangerously and she knew she wasn’t entirely free from his anger yet. But still…

“I’m not a child, girl.”

She snorted. “Neither am I, so don’t call me a girl. And you’re behaving like a child when you’re…how old are you?”

He shuffled his feet, his features contorted in disdain. “Fifty-two years."

"I'm assuming that's on your planet. What would that be on mine?"

She could nearly see the gears turn in his head as he did a quick calculation. "One hundred and thirty.”

“A hundred… holy shit,” she said, truly surprised. “Your years are two-and-a-half times longer than ours?”

“Rotationally speaking.”

“What other way of speaking is there?”

He frowned again, but it was one she’d come to recognize as irritation instead of actual rage. It felt like they were easing back into somewhat okay territory and she sighed internally in relief. She didn’t think he’d actually hurt her but then, she didn’t truly know, did she?

She smirked at him. “Still not taking my clothes off.”

He pressed his hands against the floating table, his fingers paling from the pressure. “By all the _gods_ , not this again. Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

She shrugged, throwing her own hands in the air. “Why do I have to be naked for you to--to do what you have to do? I’m never naked when I got to the doctor on my own planet! I wear a hospital gown! I’m only naked when—”

She cut herself off, her cheeks growing red at what she’d nearly admitted.

He growled, his frustration evident. “Some of the procedures are easier without a barrier between the instruments and the skin.”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” She held up two fingers in a cross at him. “You said no probing!”

“What…? You are the most…ugh!” He stomped his foot, actually stomped his damn foot, before he disappeared from her sight.

She stared at the space that had contained him for a moment, her frustrated brain preparing an exclamation of its own when he reappeared, the bottle of blue liquor and a tumbler clutched in his hands.

“Is that for me?”

His mouth twisted and he scoffed. “Absolutely not. It’s for me. I’m not getting through this without some kind of fortification, that’s been made quite apparent.” He sloshed a measure into the glass and knocked it back with a grimace.

“You’re not doing tests on me while drunk, spaceman.

“I gave you my name, woman. Kindly use it. And I don’t get drunk, remember?”

She shifted her weight awkwardly. “Oh. Right.”

He gave her a dry little ‘hmm’ in response, knocking another shot back. He sighed.

“Fine. You don’t need to disrobe.”

She sighed in relief.

“However,” he said, pointing at her with the hand holding the bottle, “refusing will make things take longer than they would if you just cooperated.”

She opened and closed her mouth, searching for a response. “H-how much longer?”

He grinned nastily. “Oh, ages, dearie. You’ll be here forever.”

He was messing with her, she knew, but it still hit its mark. “What…what if I wore, like, a sheet or something. You know, over…certain parts.”

He stopped mid-swallow, his lips pursed to keep the alcohol in his mouth and his cheeks puffed with liquid.

He took his time swallowing before answering. “Well,” he mused. “I suppose that could work.”

“Just so long as you promise me you won’t look under the sheet.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. “I promise,” he ground out.

She nodded. “Okay then. Let’s get this over with.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple finally gets to start his testing but as usual, nothing with Belle goes quite to plan.

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure how many nerves he had left to fry.

Each encounter with his _specimen_ left him more frazzled than the last, for many different, dichotomous reasons. And that little remark of hers about him being lonely. He rolled his eyes. Who did she think she was, peering at him like she could see the deepest desires of his heart and pulling things out at random?

He shifted on the stool where he sat, nursing a few more fingers of his liquor as he waited for her to finish undressing. He wasn’t lonely. Far from it. He kept himself very busy, too busy for others and thankfully so, for there was too much work to do. Other people would just get in the way with their feelings and their demands and their...feelings. He was quite content to move through life at his own pace, doing his job as he saw fit, and only returning to his planet when absolutely necessary to drop off data at the research hub.

The woman was a nuisance and the sooner he collected what he needed and got her back onto her planet, the better. He ignored the little twinge in his heart that accompanied the thought, chalking it up to the liquor and his impatience.

“Are you quite finished yet, dearie?” he called, facing the dressing screen he’d managed to convince his wardrobe to conjure in the lab. She didn’t want to blink back and forth or walk down the hall sans covering, so there was little choice but to provide her with something in the room to help with her comfort. He told himself it was just to make the process simpler and assure her continue acquiescence.

“Almost,” she spat back over the screen, discomfiture evident in her voice. “Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

“You don’t possess anything I haven’t seen before, woman.” He swirled his drink, sighing. “Just come out.”

“Close. Your. Eyes.”

He harrumphed, lowering his lids. He spread his hands wide despite knowing she couldn’t see him.

“Alright, they’re closed. Some of us here actually know how to do what we’re told. Now, will you come out?”

He heard the shuffle of fabric as she moved out from behind the screen, then a muffled grunt.

He cracked an eye open, catching sight of pale shoulders and a mass of dark curls as she struggled to get back up onto the table whilst keeping the white sheet he’d given her wrapped around her. She was obviously not going to be able to handle this simple task herself and so he stood, making his way to her.

She saw him moving towards her and yelped.

“You said you’d keep them closed!”

He rolled his eyes. “If I did, then we’d be stuck here for hours until you managed to get yourself back up onto the table.” He stopped near her and reached out but she darted away.

“Good gods, woman, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help you get up there!” He scowled down at her. “Why are you suddenly so much smaller?”

Her face was as red as a lakeside sunset. “I’m not wearing my heels,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

“This is your actual height?” He scanned her from the top of her head to the toes peeking out beneath the bottom of the sheet. Her nails were painted a deep crimson and he stared at them.

She tossed her head back, glaring at him full in the face. “Yes, this is as tall as I naturally get. Hence why I wear heels.”

He grunted in response, still fascinated with her painted toes but jerked his head up in embarrassment when she cleared her throat.

“Are you going to help me up there or not?”

“Ah, y-yes, of course.” He reached for her with both hands but she shied away again. He sighed, grasping hard to the edge of his patience. “I’m not trying to trick you, Belle. I’m only going to lift you onto the table.”

Her eyes widened and he realized it was the first time he’d used her name since she’d given it to him. It had just slipped out, easy as you please. Well, she’d chosen to share it, so why shouldn’t he use it? He frowned, grasping her as gently as he could by her waist and hoisting her onto the white slab, ignoring her little squeak as she was lifted.

They were at eye level once she was seated, her surprised blue gaze on his face as her hands clutched the edges of the fabric around her. Somehow he’d ended up between her spread legs, his hands braced on the table’s edge as his pelvis nearly touched it.

She’d been so easy to move, light in his hands and he hadn’t anticipated that. He swallowed, an odd heat chasing under his skin as they stared at one another.

“You really are quite tiny,” he breathed, his eyes falling to her mouth as she bit her lip on a light giggle at his remark.

“Tiny but mighty, I like to say,” she murmured, releasing her full lower lip. It shone in the light, slightly wet from holding it between her teeth and he saw her eyes drop to his own mouth, her body slowly moving towards his--

The autoclave buzzed obnoxiously, alerting him that his tools were ready, and he jerked away from her. He ducked his head, hiding his face as he moved to the machine, his features twisting in annoyance. Whether at himself or the autoclave, he wasn’t sure.

He slid the drawer of instruments out and examined them, trying and failing to ignore the rustle of fabric behind him as she rearranged herself on the table. Some evil imp in his mind whispered at him to turn around, take a peek, what could it harm? He scowled, clearing his throat a bit too loudly as he turned with the tray, snatching the tablet on his way back to her.

She turned towards him at the noise, her expression questioning, but quickly caught sight of the tray and lifted her head to peer inside. She bit her lip once more, this time in apparent worry, but her features quickly cleared.

“None of those look _too_ painful,” she said, relief palpable in her voice.

“Of course not.” He resolutely kept his eyes away from her figure as she tweaked the sheet here and there. “I’ve told you the rules are different for females.”

“Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know you were telling the truth? I’ve never been abducted before,” she huffed.

He snorted lightly through his nose. “Touché.”

“I didn’t know you had that word on your planet.”

“We have lots of words on my planet. Some of them even _you_ might know.” He reached into the tray, pulling out a caliper. “I’ll need you to hold very still. This won’t hurt but exact measurements are crucial.”

He moved to her head, extending the edges of the instrument and fitting them neatly to her skull. She did as she was told for once and stayed still. He noticed her chest rising and falling somewhat rapidly as he worked and saw her eyes close and her lips move as she whispered a few things to herself he couldn’t hear. He quirked an eyebrow, her reactions interesting him, and reached over to tap a quick note into the tablet.

“Did that hurt?”

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his as he bent over her, and he saw her gulp.

“What? Oh, no. It’s doesn’t hurt at all.” She let out a small, breathless laugh. “Nope. All good here!”

He blinked into her upside down face. “…Good, then.”

“Why didn’t the scanner do this?”

He adjusted the caliper, taking measurements of her facial features. “Some things I prefer to do myself by hand,” he said absently, focusing on the measurements.

“Why?”

He moved to her neck. “I trust myself more than a machine. They tend to scare creatures and a warm touch can calm them.” He reached over to the tablet and tapped in the measurements.

He caught her slight frown when he moved back and returned it with one of his own.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“…Right. Would you kindly, ah, move the sheet somewhat...lower?”

Her eyes widened. “How low are we talking, there, spaceman?”

He closed his eyes briefly. “To your clavicle, Belle.” He paused, opening his eyes. “Do you have a clavicle?”

“Yes,” she said with a snort. “And fine, I can do that.”

She did as she was told, moving the sheet ever so slightly down below the delicate pair of bones. He set to measuring, humming in interest at his discovery.

“Are you aware that your clavicle is formed differently from one side to the next?”

She puzzled over that for a split second before her face lit up.

“Oh! Yeah, when I was a kid I fell off a swing and got a hairline fracture. Ruined my summer.” She rolled her eyes, a little smirk on her lips. “I was a clumsy child. Still am, really.”

“And yet, you wear veritable spikes on your feet.”

She shrugged. “Yep.”

He shook his head. Interesting little sprite.

* * *

 Belle had managed to stay still for the majority of the exam, but her stupid heart was beating a staccato rhythm that had nothing to do with the exam and everything to do with his proximity.

Well, some of it was the exam, if she were being honest.

He’d moved down her body, taking his time and she had to admire his thoroughness at least. But every brush of his hand and murmured direction set her nerves alight.  

It _really_ didn’t help that his hands were so warm, his skin bordering on hot. She remembered the cozy feeling of being near his body heat when they were outside her bathroom but the actual touch of his skin on hers sent her head reeling to places she’d rather it didn’t go. Her saving grace was his intense focus on his task, rendering him seemingly oblivious to her plight.

He’d taken her arm in his hands at one point, her elbow cradled in his palm as he gently manipulated her limb and then took notes. The simple, chaste stroke sent a ridiculous blush to her face. Of course, he noticed _that_ and asked her again if he was hurting her. She’d given him a breathless denial and he’d frowned, clearly not believing her but letting the matter rest.

His voice had gotten softer the more he focused until he was speaking to her in a low, soothing tone, the likes of which she thought only decent inside a bedroom.

She wondered for what seemed like the millionth time since she’d come aboard just what the hell was wrong with her.

It had been a day. One. Bloody. Day. She kept trying to remember that but it too often slipped from her mind. She had yet to alert anyone to where she was and when she’d be back but couldn’t bring herself to care too much when he was leaning over her and talking to her so intimately. She’d had exams and attractive doctors before but never reacted like this to any of them. And he wasn’t even a doctor. Or was he? She’d never asked.

She’d managed to avoid exposing herself to him during the exam, instead twitching the sheet here and there so he could take measurements. He’d mapped her ribcage, spanned her pelvis, and worked his way down her legs. She was a quivering mass of nerves by the time he moved past her shins, his warm hands cupping her ankle and palpating the bones there.

“Does all of your species have the same bone configuration?”

She nearly missed what he said, her traitorous brain too busy conjuring images of that warmth on other parts of her body to pay attention.

“W-what? Oh, um, yes. Most of us. I mean, unless someone is born without them. Then they...don’t.” She cringed at her response.

“Is that common? Being born missing necessary parts?”

“No, not really.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “So a defect of the species rather than a deliberate trait. It makes sense now.”

She propped herself on her elbows to look at him. “What makes sense?”

He set her foot down, picking up the other one.

“Your species has defects you haven’t managed to eradicate with technology or through forced evolution yet.

She blinked. “Care to elaborate?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He held up a finger, his focus still on her ankle. “Just a moment.”

He rotated her foot gently, one hand cupping her ankle for support. He ran his thumb up her instep, the firm pressure nearly making her groan with pleasure. He stooped a bit, bringing her toes to eye level and narrowed his strange reptilian eyes at them. He ran a finger along the undersides, tickling her and nearly making her jerk her foot out of his grasp, then gently pinched and wiggled a few back and forth.

Her breath hitched and her heart thumped as she watched him but she managed to marshal her thoughts into some semblance of normalcy.

“Rumplestiltskin, what the hell are you doing?”

He hummed low in his throat, the sound distinctly disapproving, and his eyes flicked up to meet hers. All she could see of his face was those reptilian eyes and his unnervingly attractive nose. The sight was surreal and comical and she had to bite her lip to stifle the laugh that wanted to erupt.

“How can you possibly wear the shoes you are so fond of and not break any bones, being as clumsy as you say you are?”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this. I’m short so I wear them for the height advantage. Oh, by the way, the ones the wardrobe gave me are, like, the most comfortable pair of heels I’ve ever worn. They’re coming with me back to Earth, I hope you know that.”

“Well, of course they’re comfortable. They’re structurally designed to support your weight in the right configuration so as not to stress your feet, but you still shouldn’t wear them all the time.” He straightened, swiping his thumb over her instep again, but softer this time, in what felt dangerously close to a sympathetic caress. “Do you have any idea what those shoes will do to your spinal column?”

She gulped, then recovered enough to mutter, “H-how would _you_ know about my spinal column?”

He gave her a flat look and pointed to his tablet. “The input from your scan along with my measurements allows the computer to extrapolate the data and mine for a species match amongst all known files.”

“Ha!” she exclaimed, managing to point a finger at him while keeping the sheet tucked around her breasts. “You said you didn’t know my species existed, but somebody obviously does, otherwise we couldn’t have been in there!” She sent him a smug grin. “Bam. I win.”

He scowled, setting her foot down. “You win nothing, madam. Except perhaps my eternal irritation.”

He reached for the tablet, tapping the screen before shoving it under her nose. She hurriedly sat up to take it, careful to keep the sheet in place.

“It just so happens that your species is quite similar to my own, so the computer is able to form base assumptions that I adjust based on my findings.”

Belle looked at the odd screen. A generic, semi-transparent female outline slowly rotated in the center with what appeared to be calculations on one side and notes on the other. She could see organs under the skin and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Some of these organs are huge.”

“Compared to yours, yes.”

She pointed to the over-large heart beating on the screen. “Mine isn’t that big, is it?”

He followed her finger to where it was pointing. “No. Female hearts of my species are larger due to the increased quantities of blood they carry and the amount of pressure that’s required to move it about the body.”

Belle looked up at him in alarm. “Why do they need so much blood?”

He shrugged. “Menses deplete their resources, and their bodies are prepared from birth to continue the species.” He pointed a little way down to what appeared to be a uterus, only much larger.

Belle shuddered. “Dear god, is that...?”

He hummed in confirmation.

“No wonder menses wipe them out,” she murmured, feeling sympathy for the women of his species. She shoved the tablet back at him, suddenly acutely aware of the nature of their conversation and wanting to end it.

He caught the glass reflexively. “Females are prone to multiple live births as well, so the increased size helps accommodate the high numbers of offspring.” His face took on a thoughtful look and he flicked through the tablet.  “Since we’re on the subject, what is the frequency and duration of your menses as compared to other females of your species--”

She shoved a hand in his face to stop his words, nearly smashing that adorable beak of his.

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we talk about anything other than this? Anything at all. Sound good?”

He raised an eyebrow, grasping her wrist and lowering her hand back to her lap and out of his face. “As you wish.” He flicked the diagram away, setting the tablet back on the counter.

She racked her brain for a better topic, drawing a blank until the strands of their earlier conversation floated back to her.

“Oh, I remember what I wanted to ask you!” She pointed at him. “You said something about my species having a defect versus something to do with evolution. What did you mean?”

He swung back around, his expression thoughtful.

“Well, arbitrary gestational defects must be why you haven’t attracted significant attention from the higher levels of galactic notice. Such defects would contaminate the upper rungs, that must be why records are slim.”  
  
“‘Contaminate the upper rungs’?” she repeated, crossing her arms.  
  
He nodded. “Breeding with your species would likely allow the defects to populate at a rate faster than normal, despite the advanced biological control we’ve asserted over ourselves. And since I can now see the similarities extend beyond the surface, it’s no wonder the council would keep any notion of you under wraps.”

“Hold on a second,” she said, head spinning as she tried to digest his words. “Defects? That makes no sense.”

He crossed his arms in turn, rolling his eyes. “Which part is difficult to comprehend?”

She scoffed. “Setting aside the _heavy_ suggestion that my entire species is basically a waste of time… if you have such high and mighty ‘biological control’ over yourselves, and--I cannot believe I’m going to say this--why would it matter if you bred with us?”

He stroked his chin. “You do appear to have certain characteristics that could be of use. Your seeming hardiness for one, if your constant wearing of dangerous footwear is anything to go by.” He shrugged. “I can only surmise it was determined any risks far outweigh potential benefits to the crossbreeding of our species.”

She snorted, examining the polish on her toes. “Whatever you say, spaceman.”

“There’s also a peculiar stubbornness about you that would likely be viewed as unfavorable as well,” he mused, tapping his lower lip.

“Okay.” She slanted him a flat look. “I get it.”

“And your species’ technology is rudimentary at best, so we’d be taking a giant leap backward and have to drag you up to speed.” He chuckled.

“You can stop now,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“And the propagation of the species would take damn near eons with the _appallingly_ small size of your species’ reproductive organs--”

“Enough!” she shouted, interrupting his ridiculous tirade. She heaved herself off the table and glowered up at him. “Are we done here? Because I think we’re done here.” She brushed past him, striding towards the door. “I’ll be in my bunk,” she spat over her shoulder.

Silence greeted her exclamation and then, “We are most certainly _not_ done. Get back here this instant, or else.”

She turned and pinned him with a hard stare. “Or else _what?_ You’ll strap me to the table and insult me to death?”

His mouth opened and closed, giving him the look of a landed fish as he tried to find a response. She shook her head.

“You know what, Rumplestiltskin? If you want to insult me, go right ahead. But I won’t have you talking shit about my entire species.” She growled at him through clenched teeth, pointing an accusing finger at his smug face and advancing a few steps back towards him. “Say what you want about me, but one more smart-ass remark about the human race and I will kick your ass so hard you’ll wish you never saw my backwater little planet.”

She saw him gulp before turning back towards the door.

“But you hate it when I say—“

She whipped around again, nearly tripping over the sheet but not caring.

“Damn right! _You_ don’t get to talk shit about _my_ planet. Only _I_ do! Now I’m leaving.” She slapped her palm against the door panel, the door sliding open with a hiss.

“If I can edge past your ego to get through the door!”

She gathered up the train of the sheet and stomped out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All they f*cking do is BICKER. 
> 
> JUST KISS ALREADY.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A truce over burgers.

Rumplestiltskin watched her go with a scowl. Ridiculous female. He hadn’t been insulting _her,_ so what was the problem? How was it his fault her species was eons behind every other intelligent life in the universe? She _seemed_ smart enough but there were exceptions to every rule.

“Waste of time bringing her aboard,” he grumbled to the empty room. He tapped the tablet’s control panel, the exam table sliding back into the wall with a muted whoosh. “A lesson in manners is what she needs.”

He sighed, replacing the tablet in its dock before transporting himself back to the deck. He settled in the captain’s chair, rubbing his forehead with a thumb and forefinger as he pondered what to do with her.

She was too spirited, taking offense at every little thing he did and managing to burrow like a tick under his skin too quickly for his liking. This must be why sentient specimens were frowned upon. He imagined bringing her back to his planet and smirked at the thought of her confronting his shocked people with all that bravado, until his thoughts soured. As a creature under scientific study, she would be fair game to the colleagues at his lab. They would assume control of her to extrapolate his data which meant the exact kinds of examinations that seemed to terrify her.

He drummed his fingers on the armrest, thoughts whirring. As she’d so _delightfully_ pointed out, it had only been a little over one earth day since she’d come aboard. She didn’t have young, so there was no legal precedent preventing him from keeping her for further study. Yet when his trip came to its inevitable conclusion, she would end up in the hands of people far less likely to have a care with her.

The idea of his brilliant, clinical colleagues getting their hands on her made his gut twist. He shoved himself out of his chair to pace the length of the deck, stopping at the front window to stare out into the cosmos.

The stars really were quite pretty, little dots of far-off light winking in the dark expanse of space as the ship coasted. Normally it soothed him to just let his mind drift but the irritation under his skin wouldn’t settle. Belle was a thorn in his side at present but she didn’t deserve to be put in the hands of people who wouldn’t give a damn about any of the things that made her... _her_.

He scowled at his reflection in the glass before breaking away from the window and moving to his liquor cabinet. He stopped short. Alcohol wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was to put her back where he found her and pluck some actual slugs from the planet this time. He could be rid of her and this ridiculous itch in one fell swoop.

He blinked to the corridor outside her room, rapping swiftly a few times on the door and stepping back to wait. The door slid open after a few moments, Belle standing behind it clothed in her bathrobe, her arms crossed as she looked at him.

“Hey.” She tugged the sides of her robe closer together at her neck, the motion drawing his eye. He cleared his throat.

“Hello.” Shuffling a bit on his feet, he gestured into her room. “May I come in?”

She hesitated before nodding, moving back to make space for him. He nodded in thanks and crossed the threshold then took a spot near the wardrobe, his hands clasped behind his back as he absently looked around. Her bed was still rumpled from her sleep and he frowned; it should have made itself.

She slid past him and settled on the bed, the tangle of bedclothes fitting neatly around her and he realized she’d made herself a nest, like a youngling seeking comfort. It tugged at his heart but he hardened himself against the feeling as he met her bright blue gaze.

“I have enough information to catalogue your species and extrapolate based on initial findings,” he said, proud of his bland tone. “You’re no longer needed. I will return you to your planet.”

He gave her a curt nod, turning to leave but her voice stopped him before he made it to the door.

“That’s it?”

He blinked, frowning as he turned back to her. “Pardon?”

She tugged the covers over her lap, the blue and cream swirls matching her eyes. “I said, that’s it?”

“Yes.” He flicked a hand at her. “I told you I no longer had need of you, so back to earth you go.

She glared at him. “So you get to insult my people with some sort of-of _intergalactic impunity_ and then kick me out when it’s convenient?”

He scoffed. “Oh, spare me the dramatics, _please_.” He took a step forward, pointing a clawed finger at her. “You’re the one who stormed off in a fit because you couldn’t handle a simple observation about your species.”

“A ‘simple observation’?” she squawked. She shoved the covers aside, launching herself off the bed and towards him, pointing a finger of her own in his face. “Bullshit! You went on for several stupid minutes about the lesser quality of everyone on earth!”

He leaned closer into her space, their noses nearly touching. “You need to grow a thicker skin, dearie.” He growled through clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t survive a day on my planet with that snippy, holier-than-thou attitude.”

“Oh, really?” She growled back, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. “I’ve done pretty well putting up with your scaly ass so far. But if everyone on your planet is like you, maybe _they_ should be worried about surviving _me_.”

Outrage made him close the distance between them, his body nearly flush against hers but she didn’t move an inch. Her eyes widened, the deep blue of her irises thinning as her pupils dilated, and he heard the tiniest gasp escape her.

He stared down at her, naked rage plain on her face, and for one brief moment anger warred with awe. She was so small, easily crushable by any standard, yet standing literally toe-to-toe with him and showing no fear. She _had_ done well with him in such a short amount of time. He couldn’t help but be impressed.

The gripping anger suddenly evaporated into nothing and he nearly sagged where he stood. He closed his eyes briefly, the imprint of her lighting up the darkness behind his eyelids, and took a breath. All they had done since he found her was quarrel but he found a strange, twisted enjoyment in their bickering. He really needed to put her back where he found her, for her safety--and his.

“You’re quite likely correct,” he said, opening his eyes again and catching her surprised gaze. “That temper of yours would eviscerate them where they stood.”

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment before she took a small step back, her eyes darting away from his.

“Which is why I should take you home,” he said gently, trying for a rational conversation for once with the only other intelligent life he’d seen since he last left his planet. He chuckled. “Can’t have my entire race wiped out by one tiny earthling I brought back with me. Wouldn’t look good on my CV.”

She rolled her eyes, her lips parting with a strange little smile. “I’m not _that_ bad, am I? I’m--”

“Tiny but mighty?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, that.” She ran a hand through her curls, pulling them over one shoulder and twisting them around her fingers. “Look, I--” she cut herself off, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I should probably go back home, you’re right.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. It needed to be done but her ready acceptance of the idea made a desperate part of his brain want to cry out, to beg her to stay, to take back everything he’d said about returning her to earth. He pushed the impulsive thoughts aside.

“I-I can take you back as soon as you’re ready.” He took a step back, needing the distance in that moment, and inclined his head. “I hope your time aboard wasn’t too trying. Thank you for helping me.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Sure. I-I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”

He smiled faintly, shaking his head. “No, my dear. You were only reacting to your situation.” He moved towards the door. “I’ll leave you be for now. Come to the deck when you’re ready.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, a strange look crossing her features. “Hey, spaceman. Wait.”

He turned back to her, a question on his face.

“Any way I can talk you into ordering me a hamburger before we leave? I’m starving.”

* * *

 

The hamburger was thick and juicy, the french fries hot and just the right amount of greasy, the best she’d ever had, and Belle felt a guilty twinge as she ate. Granny’s was good, but not this good.

She watched him from under her lashes as he toyed with another bowl of that purplish-grey goop, his spoon swirling unappetizing patterns in the muck. She caught him eyeing her french fries with ill-disguised interest and she took pity on him.

“Here,” she said, grabbing a few french fries and shoving them in his face. He recoiled in surprise before realizing she was sharing with him. He opened his palm and she dropped the fries into it.

“The last time I gave you one of those you threw away my entire meal,” she said, chuckling. “Maybe this time you could actually try some of it?”

He hummed, looking at the food in his hand dubiously and bringing it to his nose for an experimental sniff.

“It won’t kill you,” she said, then paused. “Or will it? It’s potatoes and oil, can that hurt you?”

He shot her a wry look. “I should hope I’m made of hardier stuff than a potato could fell.”

She snorted, grinning. Civility with him was actually quite pleasant. Why hadn’t they done this since he first abducted her?

Oh…right.

She watched him take one fry between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand--the mucky spoon having been abandoned to the bowl--and hold it up to the light, turning it this way and that.

“Eat them while they’re warm,” she encouraged with a smile. “They’re gross cold. Trust me.”

He made a disbelieving noise in his throat. “I recall this _meal_ containing nothing by way of nutritional value,” he said, flicking his eyes over her in a quick scan. “Yet all your readings indicate prime health, so they can’t have too much of an ill-effect on you.” He lowered the fry, biting half off gingerly and chewing.

His expression went from curious to surprise and his eyes shot to hers.

“Oh, my.”

She giggled, nodding. “See?” She held up her burger. “Want to try this, too?”

He swallowed, shaking his head as he consumed the remainder of the fries quickly. “No, no. I think, ah, _french fries_ are enough for now.”

She shrugged, taking another bite of the burger and moaning in bliss.

“God, that’s good,” she said around the mouthful. “Granny would kill to make burgers like this. She’d sell out before lunch was over. How does your ship do it?”

His eyes were slightly glazed as he looked at her and she saw his throat work around a swallow. She blushed. The noise she made had been damn near obscene but it was an honest reaction; the burger was delicious!

“Ah, s-she’s good at mining and extrapolating data,” he said, his eyes dropping to his bowl as he began playing with the spoon once more.

“Oh, so your ship is female?” Belle asked, her interest piqued.

He shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”

She hummed thoughtfully, recalling the very feminine bathing products in the bathroom and the pretty blue dress she’d been given when she first arrived. The sunshine-yellow dress she was currently wearing was another delightful surprise and suddenly it all made sense.

“A woman running things explains a lot.”

He looked up, crooking an eyebrow. “Does it?”

She rolled her eyes but softened the gesture with a smile. “Well, yeah. If she’s a girl, even an AI girl, then she gets it, even if it’s deep in her programming.”

He huffed a laugh. “I see.” He took a bite of his mush, his mouth contorting as he swallowed, and Belle winced in sympathy. It couldn’t taste good and was probably made worse after having something as incredible as a perfectly fried and seasoned french fry.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want some of my burger?” She waved it at him temptingly. “I don’t mind sharing. Plus, it’s _got_ to taste better than whatever the stuff is in your bowl.”

He gave her burger a curious look before nodding. She squeaked in triumph, shoving the burger into his hands and propped her chin on her fist to watch him.

He treated the burger the same as the fries before taking a cautious bite. He was silent as he chewed, his brow furrowed with the same concentration she saw in the lab when he was bent over various parts of her. Her cheeks flushed at the memory.

“Interesting,” he said after swallowing. He handed the burger back, those large eyes flicking up to meet hers. “You eat this often?”

She nodded, accepting the sandwich. “It’s kind of my favorite. That or a reuben on rye.”

“I understand.”

She gave him a wry look. Sure he did.

She continued eating her food while he played with his. He shoved the bowl to the side after a few moments, drumming his fingers on the table before sneaking a hand to her tray and stealing another french fry.

She snorted around a mouthful of burger, putting a hand over her mouth so she didn’t spit chewed food at him. He gave her a shy little smile as he popped the fry into his mouth and her heart skipped a beat.

What a funny thing he was.

She considered him throughout the rest of her meal, this oddly-colored being who’d stolen her away on a whim. A lonely, sarcastic spaceman whose bark was far worse than his bite, who’d been cautious and oddly respectful, all the while playing at being an utter beast. She wondered if she’d ever figure him out.

She popped the last bit of her sandwich in her mouth, abandoning her fries to Rumplestiltskin, when it hit her like lightning between the eyes that she very much wanted to see if she _could_ figure him out. He was in obvious need of company if his constant desire to needle her and pick fights was any indication.

Plus, she was long overdue for a holiday. She hadn’t taken a real vacation in, well, she couldn’t remember how long. Something always stopped her from using up her vacation time despite her deep desire to travel. Though _space_ hadn't really factored into her plans for an adventure--she’d always been more of a terra firma girl--the opportunity had presented itself. Why not take it?

She watched him as he returned to the table from bringing their trays to the canteen’s odd receptacle-sink. He moved with such peculiar grace, sensuous yet coiled like a spring, as if he couldn't decide what to do with his excess reserves of energy. She hadn’t really paid attention until then, too caught up in her own head to notice something as intimate as the way he walked.

He caught her looking and raised an eyebrow. “Something amiss, dearie?” He lifted a hand to help her down from the high stool.

She shook her head, a touch bemused as she slid her hand into his and hopped down from her seat.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” She turned, looking up at him. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” He asked. He raised a hand, twirling a finger near her nose. “Trying to suss out the monster’s weaknesses before we land?”

She recoiled slightly. “You’re not a monster. Why would you say such a thing about yourself?”

He froze, hand still pointing at her face and his mouth opened briefly before he shut it, clearing his throat. He dropped his arm, bringing both hands behind his back and avoiding her gaze. He scowled and began moving towards the canteen door.

“Are you going to tell me what you were thinking before we land or not? I don’t have all day.” He opened the door, gesturing for her to precede him into the corridor.

She sighed through her nose and passed through the doorway. “I was thinking...maybe we could make a new deal.”

He frowned as they walked. “What kind of new deal?”

“Well, I want to go back home,” she mused, “because I have plants to water and no one knows where I am.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“But,” she continued with a little smile, looking at him from the corner of her eye, “it’s obvious that you are in desperate need of house-training if you can let insults about an entire species fly out of your mouth like you do.”

He stopped mid-step.

“House-training?” he asked incredulously, glowering at her.

She turned around, walking backward and nodding at him, her little smirk growing. “Yep. So, I figure we can make a deal. You take me home to water my plants and I’ll come back to your ship and teach you proper manners.”

His glower faded into narrowed eyes and a wicked little smile.

“That’s a terrible deal, Belle.”

She bit her lip on a smile, stopping. “It’s a perfect deal.”

He shook his head slowly. “Terrible. Will you still be my specimen?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Yes,” she with caution, “but we need to iron out exactly what that means.”

He caught up to her, a little too close for her comfort but it sent a curious tingle down her spine. She looked up into his face, his dangerous smirk melting into something much sweeter.

“I won’t hurt you, Belle.”

She snorted. “Duh. I’d kick your ass if you tried, remember?”

He chortled, the genuine sound puzzling and distracting her.

“I have no doubt that you would. I’ll make sure the bone saw is locked away tight.” He held out a scaled hand. “Alright, I agree. We’ll iron out details once you’re back on the ship; you have my word.”

She looked at his hand for a split second, her mind taking in the smooth, pale gold palm and his elegant fingers tipped with dark claws. She wondered if he ever trimmed them as she slid her hand into his, the heat of his skin shocking her and sending an electric jolt of awareness through her body.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me someone else's brain went where Belle's did.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teatime on earth, nerds.

The ride back down to earth was far less eventful than his first trip had been and was made all the better for having company.

He’d admitted that fact to himself about halfway through their descent but kept the thought inside his head. Admitting it to Belle would only serve to inflate her ego and he didn’t need that.

She chirped away like a happy bird during the first half of their descent, even letting out a strange squeal of joy when he switched the ship to stealth mode, something about a ‘Wonder Woman,’ whoever that was.

Strange little creature. He bit back a smile at the recollection as he fiddled with the navigation panel, trying to pay attention to whatever she was blabbering about and ignoring the twinge of envy at her joy. What must it be like to _want_ to return to your home planet? To have connections there you treasured enough to yearn to be among them? Perhaps a family, even, or--

“Rumplestiltskin, are you even listening to me?"

He swiveled his chair around to face her, shaking off his morose reverie.

“I’m certainly trying, but it’s hard to follow the thread when you keep shouting at me to listen.” He turned back to face the controls.

“I’m not shouting. And allow me to remind you that you’re the one who asked for another fairytale to _ease the boredom of the journey_.”

He pursed his lips. She wasn’t wrong. And she was far too good at imitating him.

“I do not sound like that,” he said, waving a dismissive hand in her direction. He pulled up the fuel gauges, double-checking their numbers.

“You most certainly do,” she said near his ear, making him jump.

He spun the chair around, nearly knocking her over. “What did I tell you? Sit back down!”

She put her hands to her hips. “We seem steady enough, so I don’t _really_ need to sit, do I?

He scowled, pointing a finger at her chair. “Yes. Sit. Now.”

She sighed, slumping her shoulders dramatically. “Fine.” She dropped into her chair. “I can’t even see Earth very well yet,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Not yet, no, but if you could see your way to acting like an adult, it would be appreciated.” He tapped the screen of the controls, bringing up the coordinate dial. He smirked at the feminine growl he heard behind him.

“You’re sticking with purple for your first official meeting with my planet?” She asked after a few minutes of silence, her voice petulant. He looked down at himself, tsking. He rather liked the billowing, royal purple shirt and black brocade vest shot through with purple silk thread. He thought they paired well with his leather trousers and boots.

“What’s wrong with my clothing? And it’s not an _official meeting_ , we’re just going back to water your plants.”

“And to put in for my vacation,” she reminded him.

“Yes. That, too.”

“Well, then why the need to be so,” she waved a hand at him, encompassing his entire form, “fancy?”

He glowered at her, waving a hand at her in return. “Why the need to be half-dressed all the time?”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me, spaceman, I am not _half-_ dressed!” She pointed to the rather short hem of her cheerful yellow dress. “This is perfectly normal fashion and besides, it was your ship that selected it.”

He rolled his eyes with a snort. “She takes into account your preferences, dearie. It’s not rocket surgery.”

“Don’t you mean rocket science?”

He shot her a puzzled look. “No.”

She slumped back in her chair, crossing her arms and looking for all the world like a petulant child. He chuckled and shook his head, turning back towards the front of the ship.

“You really hate doing what you’re told, don’t you?” He entered the landing coordinates, adjusting for atmosphere and the intent to land without crashing this time.

“When it makes no sense, yeah.”

He glanced down at the controls, checking his numbers once more. “It’s for your own safety, Belle. Just stay put and strap in when I tell you to.”

Another little growl met his ears and he smiled.

* * *

Their landing on the planet was as eventless as possible, thank the gods. She became much more wiggly in her excitement the closer they got to earth and he wondered for a brief moment if she would manage to vibrate herself out of the seat’s tight restraints and dash to the glass to watch her planet as it came fully into view.

The area where he’d first landed was still clear of vegetation, the tracks where he’d crash-landed visible. He shook his head as he saw it. Ridiculous. How could they expect to have a thriving society if their vegetation was so slow to grow back? He made a mental note to ask her what the hell was wrong with her planet at the first opportunity.

The moment they touched down, she unstrapped herself and shot to the glass, just as he’d imagined. She pressed her hands and face against it and made a high-pitched squealing noise that grated on his nerves.

“Everything is so green!”

He snorted, unbuckling himself and reaching to the controls to put the ship in stasis. “You were gone for one day. Unless your mental faculties are sorely lacking, madam, I doubt you’d forget what the surface of your planet looks like in such a short time.”

She turned back to him, slanting him a rather droll look and shaking her head slowly with a tsk. “Manners, Rumple.”

Her voice was low, a teasing edge to her simple statement and he gulped, his face heating. The admonishment on his lips at her casual shortening of his name refused to release itself.

“Yes, well,” he said instead, flicking his hands at her in a shooing gesture. “Perhaps you could move back from the glass so we can attend to our business?”

She giggled, pushing back from the glass and moving to where he sat at the controls. “Of course, sorry.” She gave him a wide, happy smile. “I’m just excited.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask, instead reaching under the control panel and pressing a finger to the small identification pad situated there. A drawer slid out over his lap. Inside was a series of small discs nestled in silvery grey silk. He lifted two and handed one to Belle. She took it and gave it a curious look.

“Put this behind one of your ears,” he said, doing the same. Her eyes lit up.

“Oh! This is a communication device, right? Because that neural net or whatever it is that lets us talk on the ship doesn’t extend outside of it?” She shook her head. “Genius.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Correct,” he said, a bit bemused.

“How does it work? Will it hurt?”

“No. I promised not to hurt you, remember?” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. She digested that for a moment, then shrugged, placing the disc behind an ear.

“It works,” he explained, “by tapping into the electricity generated by the body to transmit a similar kind of software to the parts of the brain responsible for language recognition and restructuring.” He raised a hand, gesturing between the two of them. “Our species are similar enough that it should work the same. It might take a moment longer to route your synapses but that shouldn’t matter.”

Her jaw dropped around a smile as she fiddled with the device. “This is so freaking cool. Does it only work for what I hear?”

He shook his head, the dizzying bemusement back as he took in her excitement for what was really a very rudimentary technology.

“No. It, ah, maps your entire cerebral cortex and creates a neural net in miniature.”

“Neat,” she replied, but she was frowning. She pulled her hand down from under her hair, the disc in her palm. “I can’t get this to stick, can you help me? Am I doing something wrong?”

He quickly stood, presenting her with his outstretched palm,  and she placed the disc in his hand.

“They can occasionally be tricky to apply,” he said, beckoning her closer. She leaned over the control panel slightly, pulling her hair over one shoulder and exposing the side of her neck to him. He leaned in and placed the disc behind her ear, just below her hairline.

“There,” he said, “all set.” He pulled back slightly, starting a bit as he realized how close their faces were. Close enough for him to see the dark blue rims around her cerulean irises, her pupils widening as they gazed at each other.

She gave him a small smile and he realized his hand was cupping the side of her neck, his thumb resting at the hinge of her jaw close to her ear. He should remove his fingers, should leave her personal space and retreat to his own, but he was frozen; her warm, soft skin against his palm sent a sweet ache through him. He moved his thumb in a whisper of a caress, private delight blooming in his chest as her smile widened.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice breathless.

He shook his head. “No matter,” he replied, his voice raspy and overloud to his ears. He removed his hand and stepped back, looking anywhere but into those unfairly blue eyes of hers.

“You, ah, shouldn’t have any troubles now.” He twined his hands together in front of him, his fingers twitching. “But please let me know if you require further assistance with it.”

Her smile remained in place, but changed slightly; a different, warm emotion that he couldn’t quite discern embodying the slight curve.

“Sure thing, Rumple,” she said. He nodded, gesturing to the door.

They’d agreed that for the sake of expediency--and her feet, encased as they were in sunny yellow heels that matched her dress--he would transport them directly into her flat. She’d have to keep physical contact with him in order for transport to be successful. Of course, that had been _before_ he’d accidentally touched her face. He could still feel the smoothness of her skin against his fingers and the prospect of having her very near to his person as he transported them was suddenly quite alarming.

“Shall we, then?”

She nodded and moved towards him, slipping her small hand into his much larger one. He blanched, glancing down. She turned those eyes on him again, a question in their oceanic depths, and he cleared his throat.

“Is this enough contact to be safe?”

He stared at their joined hands, her delicate flesh pressing against his fingers, and hummed in assent.

“Hold tight,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost, would we?” He looked up at her, trying for a smile that felt more like a grimace.

She nodded, her face serious, and slid closer to him. Her other hand came up to curl around his bicep, her grip gentle but firm enough to be secure. The hand holding his twisted a bit, interlacing their fingers and curling closed, securing him to her.

“Better?”

He gulped and nodded. “Yes.” His heart beat swiftly and he took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic muscle. He reached for the spot on his inner wrist and pressed, sending them through space to land in the middle of her little flat.

* * *

Belle loved the scent of her home. It smelled like books and flowers with the loamy hint of warm soil from the plants lined up on her windowsill, sunning themselves.

 

She released Rumple’s hand when they landed, making a beeline for the little pots.

“Hello, sweethearts!” She bent to sniff her jasmine and citrus plants, fingering their satiny purple and white blossoms gently. “I bet you’re thirsty, hmm? Just a moment, let momma get you some water and you’ll be all set.”

She hurried to her tiny kitchen, filling the watering pot she kept near the sink and hurrying back to water her poor parched darlings. She heard Rumple clear his throat behind her, and cast a look over her shoulder.

“Oh! Rumple, I’m so sorry!” She finished watering and set the pot down on the sill. “Please make yourself at home!” She gestured to the overstuffed couch but seeing it was covered in piles of books, blushed and hurried over to clear some space for him.

“I forgot these were here. It’s only ever me so I just...let my books lay where they will.” She gave a nervous laugh over the stack in her arms.

He waved a hand. “It’s no matter,” he said, sinking gingerly onto the space she’d cleared for him. He looked utterly out of place in his dramatic ensemble, and for a moment she imagined him as the only intergalactic member of a renaissance troupe. She giggled as she set the books on the corner of her coffee table.

“What’s so amusing?” He frowned, looking around at her flat.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

He grunted, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Can I get you anything? Water, tea?”

He flourished a hand. “Whatever you’d like to have is fine.”

She beamed, going back into her kitchen. “Tea it is, then."

She busied herself with the familiar ritual, humming tunelessly and mulling over what she’d like to bring with her. Her plants. Her favorite books. She wondered if they could be transported much the same as Rumple transported himself.

She poured her favorite loose tea into the porcelain steeper fitted snugly inside her teapot, leaning over to inhale the sweet scent of the leaves. That smell never failed to soothe troubles, to calm lingering nerves, always making her smile. She thought of the strange, intriguing man sitting in her living room, of the unknown adventure that awaited her and decided then to bring the entire tea set with her, along with enough tea to last for the entirety of the vacation time she had banked.

The kettle began to whistle and she grabbed the rubber handle, careful to avoid the steam emitting from the nozzle.

“Still delirious with joy to be home, dearie?”

Belle jumped at the sound of his voice, whipping around to see him at the door of her kitchen.

“Rumplestiltskin!” She pressed a hand over her heart, setting the kettle back down on the stove. “Don’t do that, you scared the hell out of me!”

He grinned and shrugged, meandering over to the counter where she had assembled a tray of tea things. He picked up her sugar bowl and inspected it, tapping one dark claw against the porcelain and peering at its blue and white motif before setting it back down.

“So all of this,” he waved a hand to encompass the tray, “is common among your people?”

Belle’s heart had returned to a normal rhythm and with it followed irritation. She took a deep breath, returning her focus to the tea and grabbing the kettle once more.

“Not everyone likes tea, no.” She poured the water over the leaves. “Some like coffee, some don’t like anything, but everyone prefers not to be startled while holding a kettle full of boiling water.” She shot him a glare and he chuckled, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms.

“It has a pleasant smell.”

She huffed indignantly, replacing the kettle on the stove once more and capping the teapot. “Well, I should hope so. It’s a lovely blend of Assam and Ceylon with a touch of Darjeeling to round out the flavor.”

“What the hell are those?”

She snorted. “Types of tea leaves, of course.” She set the kettle back on the stove and turned on the magnetic timer attached to the range. She looked up at him and watched his reptilian eyes linger over the tea set. “Does your kind not drink tea?”

He pulled his unique eyes to hers and she raised an eyebrow, ignoring the little tingle that chased around her skin to have him so physically near, his body heat filling the air between them with a pleasant warmth. He shook his head.

“Not exactly. We soak the leaves of certain plants for medicinal purposes,” he gestured to the pot, “but it’s not something we do for the enjoyment of it.”

Belle crossed her own arms. “Doesn’t your species know how to have _any_ fun at all?” That such a simple pleasure as tea hadn’t conquered the galaxy yet was baffling.

He frowned in thought, looking over her head as he contemplated.

“Chess,” he said at last, dropping his eyes back to hers.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Chess? That’s it?”

He shook his head slightly, dislodging a hand from his crossed arms to flourish in the air. “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? It’s very mentally stimulating!”

Belle rolled her eyes. “I said ‘fun’, Rumple. What do you do for fun?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

She groaned, casting her eyes heavenward. “Nevermind. Our tea is ready.” She reached over and stopped the timer, a few seconds remaining on its face, and picked up the tray. She nodded to the small square table tucked against the wall opposite her kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He frowned, lifting the tray easily from her hands and nodding _his_ head towards the table.

“After you. It’s your home.”

She paused for a split second before moving to the table and taking a seat. He set the tray down, letting out a little ‘hmph’, and took his own seat opposite her. Long-standing habits kicked in once he was seated and she set about serving them.

“Would you like to try it plain first, or shall I doctor it for you?”

He pursed his lips. “Plain to start, I think.”

“Yeah, probably wise.” She handed him a cup then added liberal amounts of sugar and milk to hers. “I like mine very sweet with lots of milk. It’s a good thing I’m not English; they’d scream in horror.” She brought her tea to her lips, taking a small sip and humming in pleasure. “Perfect. Come to think of it, they’d probably just raise an eyebrow and sip with disdain.”

He slanted her a look and she laughed. “Yep, just like that.”

She wrapped her fingers around her cup, absorbing its soothing warmth as she watched him take a tentative mouthful. His face slid into the same deductive expression he sported when in his lab and she smiled, enjoying being on the other side of that look.

He set his cup down and leaned back in his chair, contemplating the amber liquid. She watched his throat bob around a swallow.

“It’s quite nice,” he said at last, picking the cup back up and draining the rest of the tea in one gulp.

“Rumple! That’s fresh out of the pot with nothing in it, didn’t you burn your mouth?” Her own tea was still too warm to gulp, even with loads of milk, and besides, who just drains perfectly lovely tea that quickly?

He shrugged. “Not particularly, why?”

“If I did that, I would have to go to the hospital for internal damage!”

He sent her a very patient look and opened his mouth but she cut him off.

“Don’t even start with the ‘males are stronger than females’ stuff again, Rumple,” she said, a warning in her voice. To her surprise, he held up one hand in surrender, the other lifting his cup to be refilled. She sighed, picking up the teapot. “But...it’s apparent that your species runs much warmer than mine does so I guess it would make sense you can drink hot tea without getting burned.”

He smiled, making a show of blowing away the tendrils of steam rising from his cup before taking a sip. “Better?”

She sat back, rolling her eyes fondly. “Weirdo.”

Tea was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, Rumple decided. All the better when Belle let him pepper her with questions about her world. She asked him a few but he deftly avoided answering those. A bit of well-placed snark distracted her nicely.

She cleared the table and shooed him out of the kitchen as she put things away, so he took the opportunity to meander around her living quarters, poking here and there and tossing questions to her as curiosity struck.

Apparently, the human race was quite keen on having ‘fun’ as much as possible with as little effort as possible. The giant black screen in her living area quite resembled larger communication screens he’d used in the past, but she told him it was a ‘television’ and its use was entertainment. He’d shaken his head. What a waste of technology. No wonder they were so far behind. All this focus on fun was distracting them from finding their true purpose as a species.

And all her books. Piles of them. Veritable mounds of them. How one semi-sentient being could read that much in a lifetime he wasn’t sure, but she must have started when she was a _very_ small youngling.

After poking around a bit, he sat in the space she’d made for him and selected a book at random, knocking over a pile.

“What was that?” she called from the kitchen.

“Nothing. Just a pile of your books falling to the ground,” he replied, turning the book over in his hands. He heard the quick patter of her feet as she darted into the space. She gasped in horror.

“Why are you knocking over my books?!” She nearly shrieked and he stared at her, dumbfounded.

“I-I didn’t do it on purpose!” He held up the book in his hands. “This one looked interesting and it was in the middle of the stack, so…” He trailed off.

“So you just knock down the whole pile to get _one_ book? Are you a _child?_ ” She put her hands on her hips and, yes, in that moment he felt very much like a scolded child.

He scowled. “You’re the one who leaves your obviously precious things strewn about like dead leaves. You should invest in better storage, or better yet, _digital_ versions of these,” he retorted, waving the book in the air.

She made to snatch it but he held it away from her.

“Otherwise, such prestigious titles as,” he glanced at the cover for the first time, “ _Her Handsome Hero_ run the risk of damage.”

She went after the book again, nearly toppling him in her efforts to retrieve it. She braced a hand against his shoulder, her fingers curling into the purple silk, and slid one knee between his on the sofa. Using him as leverage, she tried in vain to stretch up and grab the book out of his hand. Her little attack brought her chest to his eye level as she struggled to reach her possession and he nearly swallowed his tongue at the feel of her against him, soft and warm and utterly female.

His arm dropped at the shock of her nearness and she lost her balance, knocking them both down to the couch, sending books sprawling to the floor. His head bumped the arm, sending his face directly into her chest as his arms grasped her in some misguided instinct for self-preservation. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her, flowers and tea, and his arms tightened around her involuntarily.

They both froze. Panic lanced through him as he considered his options, a particular part of his anatomy very pleased at this turn of events. He ignored it.

She moved first, wriggling to free her arms, her body squirming against his, and he bit his tongue to keep from groaning aloud. She pressed her hands against his chest and levered herself up, her blue eyes wide and stunned.

“A-are you ok?”

He nodded. “And you?”

She nodded back. “Yeah. Where did my book go?”

He craned his head around, unable to locate it until he realized the boxy thing under his shoulder blade wasn’t a pillow.

“It’s, ah, underneath me.” He swallowed, the implications of his words making his face heat with embarrassment and a peculiar, itching desire.

“Oh.”

She suddenly scrambled off him, standing and adjusting her dress and hair as he got himself to rights, handing her the book. She took it and he noticed her hand was shaking a little.

“Thanks.”

He waved a hand, unable to look at her. “No matter. My apologies for the accident.” He cringed at his formal tone, gazing down at his hands and blanched when his green-gold skin rippled for a split second. _Shit_.

He shot up, startling her into gasping and jumping back.

“Excuse me, Belle. I-I need to check something. On the ship. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He pressed his forearm and sent himself back to his vessel, collapsing in the captain’s chair and staring at his hands. He held his breath for a moment, praying it wouldn’t happen again. He was nearly convinced it had stopped when the ripple returned, this time spreading across his entire hand, turning the skin a shimmering gold. He felt the ripple slide across the rest of his body and moaned, closing his eyes. He stood, staggering a bit before transporting himself to his living quarters.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...stardust

Belle stood in her living room, jaw slack as she stared at the space Rumple had vacated. One moment they were an odd tangle of limbs due to some serious clumsiness on her part and the next he’d blipped out of her living room, ostensibly back to the ship. Perhaps their tumble had _actually_ hurt him and he’d gone back to the lab to patch himself up.

Well, there was nothing she could do about it until he returned, unless she fancied a traipse through the woods, which she did not. She set down _Her Handsome Hero_ and returned to the kitchen to finish putting away the remnants of their tea.

She was absorbed in washing the teapot when the atmosphere of her little flat shifted. Rumple had returned. She snatched the kitchen towel from her counter, drying her hands as she hurried into the living room to find him leaning over her flowers, one long finger gently probing the purple blossoms of her jasmine plant.

“Rumple! Are you alright?”

He straightened, shoulders drawn back as he looked down at her.

“I’m quite fine, madam.”

She stopped short. Madam? Why the sudden formality?

“Rumple, what’s the matter?” She crossed her arms, the towel tucking into the crook of her elbow. “You were gone for almost twenty minutes. Did something go wrong?”

He shook his head, turning to look out her window. “Everything is fine. Shall we continue with the plans for the day?” He turned around to face her once more, his eyes landing on her but not quite meeting hers. “That is, if you’re still amenable to it.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Of course I am, spaceman.” She shook her head. Something had happened in the short time he’d been gone, but he obviously didn’t think it pertinent enough to share with her. Well, the truth would come out eventually. She could wait.

“I just need to grab my keys and then we can go downstairs.” She began to walk towards the bedroom but stopped when he followed.

She turned back to him, an eyebrow raised. “Where are you going?”

He tilted his head, regarding her with his unearthly eyes. “With you, of course.”

“Well, I’m going to my bedroom,” she said. “No spacemen allowed in there.”

“I see.” He took a step back, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “Apologies.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Just wait for me in the living room, I’ll be back in a moment.” She paused. “And please don’t knock over any more of my books, ok?”

He nodded, still standing in her hallway as she slipped into her bedroom and shut the door. She leaned against it, blowing an errant curl out of her face and scanning the room for her purse. Finding it near the foot of her bed, she snatched it up, rummaging around inside for her keys and phone. She pulled them both out and slid her purse onto her shoulder, swiping the screen of her phone on with one hand as she left her room.

She groaned. Four missed calls, two each from Archie and Regina, and ten texts. She had some...creative explaining to do. She mulled over potential excuses as she walked back to her living room, flicking through the unread texts. Most of them were from Archie, but a terse line from Regina was among the bunch. Irritated, she stuffed the phone back in her purse, catching sight of Rumple standing in the middle of the living room, _Her Handsome Hero_ open in one of his hands.

“Enjoying it?” She smiled, watching him scan the pages familiar to her as her own name. The book was open to the fourth page of the first chapter, the top corner permanently creased from all the times she dog-eared it.

He looked up, his eyes widening a bit at her closeness.

“More than I expected.”

She pointed to the page, her smile widening into a grin. “This is my first favorite bit of the story. I _love_ how the author describes the heroine. She’s all spit and vinegar.”

“Of all the books on your planet, this is your favorite?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well,” she said, pulling a face, “I haven’t read _all_ the books on my planet, but of the ones I have, I love this the most.”

“How many have you read?” He tilted his head again, lowering the book.

“Oh, I don’t know. A lot, definitely, but I don’t have a running total or anything.” She chuckled. “Not as many as are in my library, that’s for sure. Though everyone assumes I’ve read everything in there. The stigma that comes with being a librarian, I guess.” She gave him a wry smile but it dropped as she saw his expression change swiftly.

“You’re a librarian?” His voice was low, cautious, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Yes. Didn’t I tell you that?”

He shook his head slowly, closing the book with an odd sort of reverence. The gesture was appreciated but confusing

“My most profound apologies, Belle. Had I but known…” He sighed, pressing the book gently into her hands before stooping to pick up the books he’d knocked over, piling them carefully back on the couch in a perfectly balanced tower.

She watched him, her mouth pursed around an unspoken word.

“Why are you apologizing? I mean, it’s great that you’re picking up my books, but...wait, is there something wrong with being a librarian? Does your kind eat them or something?” She took a tiny step back, a hand up defensively.

“ _Eat_ them?” He stood, glaring at her. “By the gods, Belle, are you insane? We don’t _eat_ our people.”

“Then what’s got you all twitchy? Does this have anything to do with why you were gone?”

“No!” he said, exasperation clear in the single word. He splayed his hands in front of him. “On my planet, librarians are a revered group.”

She paused, absorbing his statement and lowering her hand. “They’re...revered?”

He nodded. “Quite.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes darting to the tower he had made of her books. “That’s...that’s wonderful! So, then, _you_ were afraid of offending _me_ by harming my books!”

He gazed down at her. “I was. I...am.”

She pressed her lips together, trying to hide the ridiculous smile begging to erupt. Librarians were revered on his planet, which meant they were cool. She was _never_ cool, she was only ever nerdy Belle, but there was a whole species out there in the cosmos treating their librarians like rock stars.

Excitement had her nearly vibrating off the floor and the wide smile broke through.

“Do you want to see _my_ library?”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and he inclined his head. “I would be honored.”

She squealed, bouncing on her toes. “Well, come on then, spaceman!” She grabbed his elbow and pulled him towards the door.

“W-what are you doing?”

She turned back, a question on her face. His eyes had gone wide and her stomach sank. Of course. She was too excited and it had freaked him out. _Damn it, Belle_.

She released his arm. “I thought we were going to my library, unless,” she said in a tiny voice, “I totally messed this up and you’d rather go back to your ship?

His eyebrows shot up almost comically and he reached a hand out to her.

“No! No, please, I want to see it.”

“Oh! Ok, good!” She gave a nervous laugh and grasped his outstretched hand. She pulled on him again until he moved on his own. “I hope you like it. You wouldn’t like my boss, but she’s the mayor, so she’s hard to like anyway, but I...I _really_ hope you like my library.”

She led him into the corridor outside her apartment, releasing his hand to lock the door. She turned back, catching him rubbing his fingers together of the hand she’d released. She hid the shy smile that bloomed on her face under the pretense of stowing her keys, only lifting her head when the smile faded enough to keep her thoughts hidden.

She gestured. “Elevator’s this way!”

* * *

A cheerful _ding_ sounded as the metal doors slid open, revealing a large, dark foyer. Belle left the odd transport box, hurrying to a wall opposite the doors and flicking a few switches. Artificial light flooded the foyer, spilling over her and illuminating the naked joy on her face. She was in her haven.

She walked quickly back to him, nearly skipping, and his lips quirked upward of their own accord.

“There’s a ton of stuff here, Rumple. Feel free to look at whatever you want!” Her mouth made a little _oh_ as she recalled something and she began to walk backward, gesticulating at him excitedly. “I just got a new set of encyclopedias in and they smell so good.” She closed her eyes, a wistful smile on her face as she moved. “All fresh paper and new ink, just heavenly. I’ll show you where--”

She collided with a very large, obviously _male_ being who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and was standing in the middle of the foyer. Belle shrieked as his meaty hands shot out to grab her around the waist and lift her. He pressed his lips against Belle’s with a sloppy, wet sound.

Rumplestiltskin glowered. Who was this cretin?

Belle stumbled as the oaf dropped her back to the ground and Rumple caught her about the shoulders, her slight figure bumping against him. He watched her swipe the back of a hand across her mouth and glare at the muscled goon, her nostrils flared.

“Hello, Gary.”

Rumple smirked. Despite their short acquaintance, he knew Belle well enough by now to know when she was irritated and this fool was not in her good graces. And did he detect fear? He took a protective step toward her.

“Belle!” The man named Gary had a full, booming voice. Obnoxious, really. “Surprise! How’s it hanging, gorgeous? Miss me?” He preened, running a hand through short, night-black hair and sending Belle a toothy smile.

She sighed through her nose, stiffening at Rumple’s side and his hands slowly dropped from her.

“Not particularly, no.”

The man snorted, crossing his huge arms. “Why so cranky? You on the rag?” His eyes slid to Rumple and widened a bit before a moue of distaste crossed his over-angular face. “The fuck’s going on there, my dude?”

Rumplestiltskin nearly growled at him but Belle beat him to the punch.

“Why are you here, Gary?” She practically snarled and Rumple felt a strange frisson of pride.

Gary rolled his eyes. “I’m here to get you for our date, dummy.”

“We don’t have a date. We’re not together, remember?” Rumplestiltskin watched a muscle in her jaw twitch.

“We will as soon as you get in my truck.” He jerked a thumb towards the door, pasting what he no-doubt assumed was another winning smile on his face, but Rumple thought he had too many teeth. “C’mon, Belle, don’t be a bitch.”

He took a step forward and grabbed for her but Rumple was quicker, shooting out a hand to slap Gary’s away.

Gary yanked his hand back with an indignant howl, glaring. “What the fuck, man?”

Rumple felt Belle take a small step back, the tiniest whimper reaching his ears, and his gut twisted in rage. He turned a baleful glare on the boor.

“Watch your mouth, whelp.”

Gary snorted again, like the dumb beast he was. “The fuck you say to me?”

Rumple crossed his arms, careful to stay in front of Belle. He adopted a bored expression.

“I said, watch your mouth. Are you deaf or did I use words with too many syllables? Would grunts have sufficed?” He raised an eyebrow.

The lummox scowled, slashing a hand through the air in Rumple’s direction. “Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck’s with the makeup? Looks _gay_.”

Rumple feigned shock, fluttering his hands and pressing them dramatically to his chest. “My, my. You _do_ enjoy profanity, don’t you? And a slur for good measure! Is stupidity taking up too much space in your head and pushing out all the big boy words?” He could feel Belle’s eyes on him and his nasty smirk deepened.

Gary’s face turned purple. He took a step closer, pointing a fat finger in Rumple’s face.

“Listen up, you scrawny freak--”

“Oh, is a threat coming? Please say yes,” Rumple interrupted, his grin turning maniacal as he spoke through his teeth. “I do _so_ enjoy when a lesser being threatens me.”

He stepped closer, Gary’s finger bumping against his throat.

“Go on, dearie,” he rasped. “Finish what you started.”

Uncertainty flickered across Gary’s face. For a moment, Rumple thought he’d scurry away like the overgrown rat he was, but instead, he doubled-down on his bravado, curling his finger back to make a fist that he shook under Rumple’s nose. His primordial brows drew down over his beady eyes.

“Say something again, man. I fuckin’ dare you.”

“Well, color me very frightened,” Rumple said with a demented little giggle, fluttering his fingers in the air. He relished the way Gary’s face paled considerably and the slight, fumbling step he took backward.

Rumple closed the small gap between their bodies, steepling his fingers under his chin, the full force of his gaze on the stupid brute. “Tell you what, dearie. I’ll make you a deal.” He grinned up into Gary’s face.

The goon recoiled again, nearly tripping over his own two feet. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“You leave this place and never bother Belle again, and I won’t turn you inside out and wear your guts for garters,” Rumple said, flourishing a hand. “Unless you’d enjoy that? In which case,” he bared his teeth, “let’s get started, shall we?”

Gary gulped, his eyes darting from Rumple to Belle and back.

“N-no, man. You can have her.”

Rumped tossed his head back. “Excellent! The deal is struck! Now, run away, little man,” he hissed, shooing Gary off with a flick of his hand.

Gary took off at a near-run, shoving the front doors of the library open hard enough to make them ricochet against the outside wall before they slammed closed.

Rumple smiled nastily, rubbing the fingers of one hand together as he turned back to Belle. Shock covered her face and it took a moment before she blinked.

“I changed my mind. I think you’d love my boss Regina.”

He smiled and gave her a mocking little bow. “Pests should be dealt with swiftly and immediately.”

She giggled as he straightened and he clapped his hands together. “So,” he said, a wry twist to his mouth, “who was that _sterling_ specimen of your species?”

She groaned, running a hand over her face.“Gary’s my ex-boyfriend. He’s...well, let’s just say when God was giving out brains, Gary forgot to get in line.”

“I gathered as much.” He meandered back to her side, frowning as he caught the slight tremor in her hand. “You’re trembling, Belle.”

“What?” She pulled her hand away from her face and stared at it. “Oh. I guess I am.” She took a shaky breath, blowing it out through her mouth. “Gary’s intense and it can get frightening sometimes.”

Rumple’s frown deepened and he shifted closer to her, bringing a hand up and moving a glossy, errant curl away from her face. “Has he ever hurt you, Belle?” He spoke softly, despite the simmering ire at the idea of that hormonal moron touching her.

She shook her head, staring absently at the space near his shoulder. “Not physically, no. I broke up with him before things got really bad. He’s just a giant asshole and I hate being around him.”

Rumple nodded. “I am glad for your sake that you were not mated to that lout."

Belle huffed a laugh. “Me, too.” She looked up at him. “I’m grateful you were here with me, Rumple. I pride myself on being a strong woman but with him,” her lower lip began to tremble, “I lose all ability to stand up for myself.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, and another, and before he knew what he was doing, she was gathered up in his arms. He held her to his chest, one hand settled gently on her head and the other across her back.

He felt her stiffen for a split second before she melted into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him. She sniffled and he felt the wetness of her tears on his shirt. A nasty voice in his head scolded him that she’d ruin yet another one of his favorite silks with her earthling fluids but he couldn’t bring himself to care this time.

“I swear I’m usually stronger than this,” she whimpered, her voice muffled against his sternum.

“Of course, stardust,” he shushed. “I’ve seen it, remember?”

“At least you’re not mean to me.” She sniffled. “You can be a real jerk but you’re never mean.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, I think.” She let out a watery laugh in return before taking a shuddering breath. He stroked her head, her hair silken and smooth under his hand. “May I ask you something, Belle?”

“Sure.”

“What was that odd thing he did when he grabbed you?”

“What thing?” Belle said, confusion in her voice. “Do you mean the kiss?” She shuddered against him. “God, that was so gross. I’m sorry you had to see that.” She snuggled closer to him and his breath caught. “ _He’s_ so gross.”

“I don’t disagree,” he said wryly. “Is that a common form of greeting among your kind? It looks...unhygienic.”

Belle tilted her head back, regarding him out of slightly reddened eyes. “Rumple, do you not--no,” she said, dropping her head against his chest again. “No, that’s a dumb question and I’m not asking it.” She gave him a little squeeze before moving back and wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.

“Ugh, I must look a mess right now.” She chuckled, glancing up at him. “Thank you for the hug, Rumple. I needed it.”

“No matter,” he said, wondering at the strange emptiness that took residence the moment she’d left his arms. He glanced surreptitiously at the back of his hand, relief flooding him to see the skin its usual mottled green-gold.

She turned towards a large desk situated in the center of the lobby and moved behind it, sliding her bag off her shoulder and pulling a slim silver rectangle from inside it. She tucked a curl behind her ear and stared at the glowing screen, an errant sniff or two escaping her.

“I need to text Archie and then call my boss. They’re going to need an explanation as to why I didn’t contact them for a day and a half.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell them. Twenty-four-hour bug, maybe?”

“Wait…” Her earlier remark bounced off the walls of his mind. “What’s the dumb question?”

She looked up, her eyebrows reaching her hairline. “Uh, no, spaceman. I’m not asking what I want to ask.”

He frowned. “Well, why not?”

“Because it’s a dumb question.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ve never hesitated to pester me with questions before. Why is this one any different?”

“Okay, fine,” she said, tossing the device back onto the desk. “That thing Gary did was called a kiss and from your question, I can gather that you do not have kissing on your planet. Am I right?”

He paused. That strange, sloppy mashing of their mouths was called a kiss? What a bizarre and far-from-pleasant custom, if her reaction to it was any indication. They certainly did not have that on his planet and he was glad for it. He _ate_ with his mouth, for the love of the gods.

“We do not have...kissing in my society.” He could hear disgust lacing his words but couldn’t bring himself to care. It was a filthy gesture and he wanted no part of it.

She shrugged. “I figured. It’s too bad, too. It can be fun with the right person, you just have to find them.”

“Well, _you_ certainly didn't enjoy it,” he pointed out. “In fact, you wiped all traces of him away as soon as he put you down.”

“Well, yeah. He’s not the right person." She shuddered again. “All I want to do is gargle with Jack Daniels.”

Rumple frowned, entirely out of his depth. The strange ritual was enjoyable with the right person? Impossible. What did earth creatures do, initiate the ritual with everyone until it was enjoyable? What if they performed it with someone else’s mate? Or with a fellow creature who was averse to that form of contact?

He felt sick, his head spinning with unanswered questions. He pushed them away, glancing out the front windows of the library at the fading twilight that signaled the earth day must be ending. He should get back to the ship and upload his findings.

The issue of kissing would have to wait another day.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most fun I've ever had writing a fic. Please let me know if you're enjoying it as much as I am!

_ Two Days Later... _

Convincing her boss that Belle’s absence was merely the result of a stomach bug had been the surprising work of moments, but Belle had spent the better part of two days assuring Archie she was alright. He refused to believe her and called again as she was getting ready for work on her second day back.

She cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear as she ran around her apartment, half-listening to Archie and shooing Rumple out of her way as she darted to and fro. Archie was persistent; gently but firmly insisting on seeing her. It was sweet and a mark of his affection for her but thoroughly exasperating at the moment, considering the very nosey alien she had blipping in and out of her tiny apartment at random. 

She really needed to expand the list of ground rules for Rumple. He’d grudgingly agreed that him traipsing around town would be a bad idea so he’d stuck to her apartment and the forest, no doubt amusing the squirrels as he tried and failed to catch one, and harvesting the plants and insects that caught his interest. 

But his coming and going as he pleased was beginning to chafe on Belle’s nerves. The night before, he’d nearly seen her naked when he’d blipped into her bathroom a split second before she’d dropped her robe to get into a steaming hot bath. Only her panicked reflexes had kept him from seeing her in all her glory. It had been accidental, of course, but left her flushed with embarrassment and a few other feelings she was eager to ignore. 

She barred him from her bathroom, and her bedroom for good measure, after that. He’d scoffed, tossing an assurance at her that those parts of her earthling domicile couldn’t be further from his interest but unhelpfully pointed out that, with how often she’d called herself clumsy, she was inevitably going to hurt herself and if she so happened to be in either of the rooms in which he wasn’t allowed, she would be on her own. Therefore her dictate was illogical. Belle had scowled and spat a reply about emergency services.

He had kept to the rule, however. It was a good start but she couldn’t shake the concern that she would come home one day to find the rest of her apartment up in flames. When she had a spare brain cell, she’d sit down with him and come up with a better list. For the moment, the rules came out as they were needed.

“Archie, I am fine,” she said into the phone, drawing deep on her patience. “I promise you. Now I really have to go, the library opens in ten minutes.” She scooted around where Rumple was standing in her kitchen examining a yogurt container with suspicion. She snatched it out of his hands, ignoring his noise of protest, and grabbed a spoon from her silverware drawer.

“I can tell you’re annoyed, Belle,” Archie said, “but I only want to make sure you’re  _ actually _ okay.”

She sighed. It had been a while since they’d spent any real time together, and if it would help him feel better then what was the harm? Rumple would be in his ship fiddling with the plants he’d been collecting, as had become his evening wont, so she wasn’t needed at home for the evening. Archie could come pick her up when the library closed and they’d walk across the street to Granny’s for dinner. Her weekend officially started at six p.m. and she could use a relaxing dinner with her friend.

Archie was satisfied with the plan and Belle managed to ring off with a few minutes to spare. Shoving yogurt into her mouth, she darted back into the kitchen for her purse, stopping as she saw Rumple opening and closing the refrigerator door repeatedly.

“You’re going to let all the cold air out and spoil my food,” she said around a mouthful. “Could you not?”

He shut the door, turning to face her with a bewildered look on his face.

“Why is your entire species so inefficient with their food technology?” He walked over to her, plucking the yogurt container out of her hands, leaving her with just the spoon.

“This,” he waved the small plastic container at her, “should be ridiculously simple to keep cold enough long-term without risking harmful bacterial growth.” He shoved it back into her hands. “I’m astonished you don’t poison yourselves more often.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t take anything apart while I’m gone, please.” She grabbed her purse from the table, sliding it onto her shoulder. “I’m going out with a friend tonight after work so I’ll be later than I have been the past couple of days.”

He paused, shooting her an odd look. “Who are you meeting?”

“Archie.” She took a spoonful of yogurt. “The town psychologist and my best friend.”

He rubbed the fingers of one hand together before gesticulating in the air. 

“And is this Archie male or female?”

She smirked around the bowl of her spoon, pulling it out of her mouth to point at him and narrowing her eyes. 

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he spat, scowling. “I’m trying to keep you from getting yourself murdered before you can fulfill your end of our deal, dearie.”

Belle sighed. “Not everyone is like Gary, Rumple. Archie wouldn’t harm a fly. Literally. I’ve seen him purposefully avoid it, so I’m pretty sure I’m safe from him killing me in cold blood.” She scooped the rest of the yogurt into her mouth, depositing the container in the trash. “Comes with the territory of being a best friend.”

“Regardless, when you return, we must plan our departure.” He flicked a hand towards the window. “I’m running out of interesting species to gather.”

“I need to talk to Regina about my leave and she’s not free until Monday. We’re here at least until then.”

He heaved a world-weary sigh and turned towards the windows.

“Yes, well...go to work. Your profession is highly important.”

She shook her head, walking to the door.    
  
“You’re a nerd.” She opened the door. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone. And stay out of my room!”

Rumple stared out Belle’s living room window for a few long minutes after she left, watching humans bustle about on the street below like the tiny ants he’d found in the forest, scurrying with their treasures back to the complicated home they’d built deep underground.

Once Belle had given him access to her planet’s vast electronic repository of information--the _ Internet _ , she’d called it--via a stupidly simple passcode, it had been a matter of moments to connect his ship’s database and extract pertinent information about the planet. It was nice to not sacrifice his blood to obtain access to the huge stores of information, but their security was laughable at best.

And now he knew more about the earth behavior of ants than he’d ever need. A tidy little colony was coming together nicely back in his ship from the specimens he’d collected and he looked forward to seeing how the tiny creatures dealt with interstellar travel.

He mulled over the events of the past two days since they’d arrived back on Earth. There had been plenty of interesting flora and fauna to occupy him and he’d collected several promising samples besides the ants, but his fascination kept wandering back to one thing.

Belle.

As irritating as it was, his fascination couldn’t be helped. She was kind, friendly, and far too trusting in his estimation. She was well-liked if the near-constant jangling of her cell phone--as she had called it--was any indication. And she liked her people in return, having come back from the past two days in the library tired but smiling. Plus, she’d brought him french fries each night after her work was finished and he made sure to transport back in time to receive his treat, lingering over the snack before going back to his ship.

He’d wandered around every tiny room in her home, taking in all the details of her, except for where she slept and bathed. She’d given him the command to stay out of those places and he obeyed. It was one thing to enter her assigned space on  _ his _ ship as he owned it outright. It was another matter entirely to violate a portion of a sole female’s domicile marked as off-limits to a male, despite how illogical and emotionally-motivated he’d found her command.

Belle’s home was small but charming in its simplicity. An odd feeling settled under his ribs the more time he spent there and he realized with a shock that he felt contentment. The feeling wouldn’t dislodge itself, not even after the event of the previous evening.

Transporting himself into Belle’s bathing room had been entirely accidental. The vision of her pale shoulders as she began to draw down her robe was not one he had expected to encounter and he’d gaped for a moment before she sensed his presence. He had transported himself back out immediately, but not before the little finger of his hand had begun to ripple. Luckily for him, it was a minor thing, easily quenched without having to resort to the same drastic measures as the last time it happened around her.

When he had a spare moment, he was going to analyze and eradicate whatever foolishness kept causing that reaction.

He sighed contemplatively, pulling himself away from the window and preparing to transport back to his ship when his gaze landed on the dark green book in the middle of Belle’s living room table.

_ Her Handsome Hero _ . He pursed his lips. He really should get back and work on the data he’d collected yesterday but something about that book beckoned him to while away a few hours in the simple pleasure of reading. When was the last time he just sat and read an actual, paginated book for the enjoyment of it? He reached down, picking up the tome and opening to the first page.

_ Once upon a time, there lay a small village at the edge of the woods. _

He lowered himself to the sofa, settling back comfortably and losing himself in the story. Research could wait a while longer.

* * *

True to his word, Archie met Belle at six on the dot and the two of them strolled to Granny’s in the early twilight of the late September night.

They took seats in a booth by the door, ordering a burger and fries for Belle and a soup and salad for Archie. 

As the waitress walked away, he took a sip of his water, clearing his throat.   
  
“So,” he said, his voice quiet in the din of the dinner crowd around them, “I, ah, hope you’re not upset with me for being so persistent. I was worried about you.”

Belle swirled the ice in her tea. “I know you were, Archie. I appreciate it. I really am fine, though, as you can see.” She smiled at him.

He nodded. “Of course. Just a bug, you said?”

Belle froze her smile. “Mhm, that’s what I said.”

“Oh.” Archie’s brow creased slightly. “That’s all it was?”

“Archie,” Belle sighed, leaning over the table. “I am fine. I don’t know how many times I can tell you before you believe me.”

A sheepish smile curved his mouth. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not like you were abducted by aliens or anything.”

Belle choked on a sip of her tea, lungs rebelling at the intrusion of liquid and sending her into a coughing fit. Archie frowned, reaching out to her but she waved him away.

“I’m good,” she said between coughs, taking deep breaths as her system realized she wasn’t, in fact, drowning. “Remind me to drink it and not breathe it next time.” She chuckled weakly.

Archie’s brow remained creased with a frown and he narrowed his eyes at her as the waitress arrived with their meal. When she departed, Archie let out a sigh, removing his glasses to clean them with a corner of his shirt.

“Belle,” he said after a moment, replacing his glasses and looking at her through them, his eyes kind behind the wire frames, “I don’t think you were sick.” He held up a hand when she made to protest. “Call it a gut feeling, but you’ve never just disappeared like that before. The last time you left for any length of time was to visit your parents and you made sure we all knew when you were going and the exact time you’d be back.”

Belle dropped her eyes to her plate, fiddling with her fries as she gathered an answer for him. She made a mental note to grab fries for Rumple again before she left.

“Archie,” she began but he cut her off.

“Please don’t lie to me, Belle.” Archie regarded her, his eyes concerned. “Whatever the truth is, we can handle it together. If you’re in trouble, I can help you. You don’t have to be scared and you won’t be alone.”

Belle looked at him for a second before bursting into laughter. The concern in his eyes turned to confusion as she giggled across from him.

“Oh, Archie, you are the sweetest thing in the world and I adore you,” she said once her giggles had subsided enough for rational speech. “I can one-hundred percent assure you that I am in no mortal danger.” She smiled at his bewildered expression, reaching out to pat his hand.

He huffed gently, his tell-tale sign of irritation, and sat back. 

“Then what’s going on?”

Rumple lost himself in Belle’s book for hours, finding to his surprise that the light fantasy appealed to the whimsical side of his nature he kept well hidden in the recesses of his personality. The characters were a tad flowery in their speech and the prose veered dangerously toward saccharine at points but, all in all, it was an enjoyable way to waste time.

The mid-afternoon sunlight slanted through Belle’s windows by the time he was ready to take a break. He stood, his spine cracking from the hours sat still and decided on a whim to rummage through her kitchen, suddenly curious as to what else these inefficient humans kept tucked away in their cooking areas. She’d told him to stay out of her refrigerator and asked him not to burn down her domicile, but had said nothing about the cabinets. 

He stumbled across some odd contraptions obviously designed for food preparation and made a mental note to ask Belle how effective they were at getting her fed. He was loathe to try any food item that came out of them ostensibly cooked but there was no harm in asking, purely for data-collection purposes.

One cabinet held the now-familiar tea implements and he smiled a little to see them. At least  _ that _ was an earthling ritual he could get behind. They would have to bring those along on their journey. Still smiling, he opened another cabinet to reveal a small selection of bottles, varying heights and girths, each holding a different colored liquid.

He frowned, pulling out a squat, rounded bottle with a brown-on-white label.  _ St. Brendan’s Irish Cream _ . He unscrewed the top, giving the contents an experimental sniff, and his eyebrows raised in surprise. The little minx with the low tolerance for spirits had an alcohol cabinet. Interesting. 

He replaced the bottle and pulled out another, this one fat with a short, squat neck, labeled  _ Sullivans Cove Single Cask French Oak Whisky, Tasmania _ .

He removed the stopper. The fumes promised him a deep, pleasant fire coursing down his throat and warming his stomach and he hummed in pleasure. He hunted around her cabinets for another moment until he produced an acceptable glass, and poured himself a measure of the alcohol.

He stoppered the bottle and tucked it back where he’d found it. What a treasure trove he’d discovered. He smiled as he swirled the liquor in the glass and moved back to the couch, quite pleased with his prize. He sat, picking up the book, and took a sip of the whisky as his eyes found the paragraph he’d ended with.

The drink did indeed leave a delightfully smoky burn in its wake as he swallowed. He growled pleasantly, settling deeper into the couch to enjoy himself.

* * *

Belle heaved a sigh as she slumped against a wall of the elevator as it carried her the short way up to her apartment. 

She should have known Archie wouldn’t believe her when she told him the truth. She tried gently leading him to the idea but nothing had landed. She was forced to spell it out and when she admitted it, he’d gotten angry. Quietly so but still, it was painfully obvious he thought she was pulling some mean stunt. He’d paid for their meals and left her there to the curious stares of the other patrons. She’d gathered enough of her dignity to get an order of fries for Rumple and then scurried out.

She groaned as she unlocked the door to her apartment. She’d have a drink, give Rumple his fries if he was in, and then crash. Maybe she could enjoy the weekend and then try again with Archie on Monday.

She shut the door, resting her forehead against it for a moment and taking a deep breath.

“Welcome home, dearie.”

She jumped the tiniest bit at the sound of Rumple’s voice and turned, eyes closed as she leaned against the door.

“Hi, Rumple,” she said flatly. “How was your da--”

She cut off at the sight that met her eyes as she opened them.

Rumple was sitting on her couch,  _ Her Handsome Hero _ clutched in one hand and a tumbler full of what looked to be whisky in the other.

And he was upside down.

Setting down her baggage, she took a few curious steps towards him, watching as he took a deep gulp from the tumbler with unfair levels of dexterity for someone holding a glass while their head was where their feet should be.

His attention was wholly absorbed in the book, his nose nearly touching the spine as he read with a furrowed brow, his eyes narrowed and the occasional suspicious hum coming from his throat. 

Belle noticed a few bottles on the coffee table and gasped, reaching out and snatching one up. Her Sullivan’s was nearly empty! It had been a gift from her mother a year ago and she’d shared a bit with Archie to celebrate receiving a bump in her funding from the town council as a reward for her successful children’s literacy series. 

They’d only had a couple fingers between the two of them and the bottle had been put back nearly full. She swirled what was left, dismayed to find barely a finger in the bottle. She was a lightweight; it should have lasted her  _ years _ .

She scowled, putting the bottle back down and grabbing the other two. Her favorite Irish cream liqueur and her crème de violette seemed full enough and she darted to the kitchen, stashing them where they belonged. She briefly considered investing in a deadbolt for the cabinet as she scanned the rest of the bottles. She was relieved to find that none of them were as drained as her whisky and went back to the living room a tad calmer. She stood near Rumple, crossing her arms over her chest and glowering down at him.

It took a minute or so but eventually, he noticed her staring and sent her a wide, lopsided grin.

“Hello, there. Why are you upside down?” He brought the tumbler to his lips.

Her nostrils flared but she managed to keep a tight hold on her temper.

“Rumple,” she said, bringing her arms down to put her hands on her hips, “what are you doing?”

He scoffed. “Keeping myself amused while you fritter away your evening with some--some  _ male _ of unknown origin,” he slurred, gesturing with the glass. The alcohol inside sloshed precariously. Noticing the movement, he grunted and tossed the rest back, depositing the tumbler on the table with a thunk.

Belle sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers as the unfairly-dextrous alien brought himself upright.

“Oh, fucking hell,” she whispered.

She opened her eyes again to see him wobble where he sat and watched, bemused, as he plucked the whisky bottle from the table and stood, taking a few awkwardly measured steps towards her.

“For someone who is--” he hiccuped, “supposedly quite susceptible to the effects of inebri-ineburry...of being drunk,  _ you _ , madam,” he pointed at her with the hand not holding the bottle, “have a rather large amount of alcohol.” He gave her a decisive nod, unstopping the bottle and bringing it to his lips.

She groaned internally. He was ass-over-teakettle drunk. What the hell was she going to do with a drunk alien? There was no manual for this! She snatched the bottle out of his hand.

“Give me that  _ back _ ,” he growled indignantly, and she took a step back.

“No, you’re done with this.” She held it out of his reach and he made a swipe for it, growling. He stumbled into her, arms windmilling for a moment before latching on to her waist in an effort to steady himself. She nearly gasped at his touch but managed to stopper the bottle and toss it to the side. She looked up at him with exasperation, ignoring their closeness for the moment.

“It’s incredibly rude to take refreshments away from a guest, Belle.” He raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips at her in rebuke.

She glared at him in disbelief. “Rumple, you drained my most expensive bottle of alcohol like it was  _ water. _ ”

“Oops.” He grinned. “My most humble apol-apologizing.” He frowned. “No, that’s not right… _ apology _ . Had I but known--” He cut himself off, lurching forward with a snorting, high pitched giggle, his breath hitting her like a freight train. 

She recoiled in his arms, pushing at him and twisting her face away.

“Ugh. Rumple, you absolutely reek.”

He pouted at her, tsking. “So  _ rude _ ,” he drawled. “I’ll have you know that I bathe  _ quite _ frequently, Belle.” He loosed an arm from around her to flourish a pointed finger in the air. “Hygiene is of the utmost importance to my species. Even though you won’t let me try out  _ your _ bathtub.” He hand fluttered down to tweak her nose, and he grinned sloppily. “Greedy thing.”

Her cheeks flushed and she froze, eyes wide. His drunkenly-casual touches were doing more to unnerve her than she would expect.

“I meant from the alcohol, weirdo.” She wriggled a little, trying to pry herself out of his arms, but it was like struggling against steel clamps as he tightened his hold against her struggles. “Rumple, let me go.”

He shoved his face closer to hers, his eyes narrowing to the point where she wondered bemusedly if he was having trouble seeing. His natural clove-like scent wafted to her, cutting through the alcohol, and she wanted to take a deep breath. She was going mad.

“What’s wrong, Stardust? Your face is all red. Are you ill?” 

“I-I’m not ill,” she muttered. He tsked.

“I’m  _ not _ ,” she protested with a scowl, trying another vain wriggle, “but  _ you _ might be soon from all that booze.”

“How curious.” His slurred drawl made her stomach do a little flip. She looked up at him and his sudden comically interested expression pushed her into a snorting laugh and dispelling the weird spell she’d been under.

“How are you even still upright?” Her laugh surprised him enough that she was able to free herself and she stumbled back a few steps. She sighed, shaking her head as she made her way towards the kitchen. “You need something warm and non-alcoholic. Lots of it.”

“I most certainly do  _ not _ ,” he slurred indignantly. He followed her, nearly colliding with her when she stopped near the stove. “I’ll have you know I don’t get  _ drunk _ .”

She barked a laugh, quickly filling the kettle and set it to boiling on the stove. “Sorry to break it to you, spaceman, but you are  _ extremely _ drunk.” She pushed him backward and into a chair at her table. He landed with a grunt. “And apparently you lose all concept of personal space when you’re hammered.” 

He pouted and she smiled at him. “Now, sit there and don’t touch anything.”

She started to turn back towards the kitchen but he grasped her hand and tugged her closer to him, sliding his arms around her hips and snuggling his warm face into her abdomen with what sounded like a happy growl.

“R-rumple! I said don’t touch anything!” She froze, her hands hovering in the air near his shoulders.

“You’re not a thing,” he muttered, the words muffled into the fabric of her dress.

Her quip about personal space had been a joke but this was well beyond his embrace of before. His grip tightened fractionally but his arms never wandered from where they were wrapped securely around her rear as he held her to him, his head just under her breasts. He gave a great heaving sigh, the sound ending in a low rumble that tapered off into a strange series of quieter, rhythmic growls.

Oh, god. He was  _ purring _ .

Before she could react to that realization, he grunted in drunk annoyance at her and she took that as her cue to lower her arms and touch him in return. He let out another happy little growl as she gingerly placed her hands high on his back, and resumed his purring.

She stood like that with him for a few moments, shock keeping her from moving. His purrs gradually tapered off and she realized he was falling asleep. Not wanting to jerk him awake lest he reacted poorly, she slowly moved her hands, one gliding across his shoulder and the other moving up into his hair, stroking through the soft, strange waves, the silk of it sliding pleasantly through her fingers.

“Rumple,” she murmured, giving his shoulder a gentle pat, “come on, wake up. It’s time for tea.”

He stirred against her with a small noise of protest, his hands sliding up her back and his head lifting enough to nuzzle the underside of her breast as he tugged her closer still, his knees moving forward to grip her own. She gave a quiet gasp, his unknowing caresses sending a flare of heat through her body that settled between her legs with a traitorous throb. He began purring again, his clawed fingers gently scratching at the fabric that covered her back like a cat kneading a comfortable blanket.

She gulped. His touch nearly burned her through the thin fabric of her dress, the heat at once comforting and disturbingly arousing. She panicked at the realization. It was strange and worrisome and she needed to wake him up.

Luckily, the kettle began to whistle, saving her from her predicament. The shrill sound brought him around and he pulled back to gaze at her, his reptilian eyes half-lidded like a slumbering predator, the pupils widened by his drunkenness and the accompanying fatigue.

“Belle,” he said, an unguarded, crooked little smile curving his mouth. “Hello.”

She gave him a tremulous smile as she slowly extricated herself from his hold. He whined as she pulled away but crossed his arms on the table and slumped onto them, watching her move around the kitchen with his half-open eyes, like a sun-warmed lizard too lazy to go after its prey.

She put together the tea tray and brought it with her into the living room, setting it on the coffee table. She moved back to the kitchen table, extending a hand and ignoring the slight tremor in her fingers.

“Come on. Think you can stay awake long enough for some tea?”

He grumbled but allowed her to tug him out of the chair and into the living room. She pushed him down onto the couch and settled next to him, jumping in surprise when he slid down to the floor and maneuvered himself between her legs. She gulped, a frisson of excitement or fear--she couldn’t figure out which--lancing through her. She halted her move towards the tray as he settled, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. Her knees hugged his shoulders and she had to fight a bit to control her breathing. She focused her attention on the task of preparing them cups, her hands shaking enough to make them rattle on their saucers as she handed Rumple his.

He took it with a low, appreciative hum, taking a loud slurp of the beverage and growling in pleasure as he swallowed. He drained it in two more gulps, setting the cup and saucer on the table before settling back against the couch.

Belle smiled despite the strange turmoil in her gut.

“Comfortable?” She asked into her cup.

He let out another grunt, reaching back to grasp one of her hands and pulling it to his head. She sputtered, nearly spilling her drink.“H-how am I supposed to drink my tea with one hand?”

Silence met her question, her hand still atop his head, and she gave an exasperated huff.

She adjusted a bit, taking the cup with one hand as the other started a gentle wander through his hair once more. His peculiar purring began again and he resettled himself to lean his head against her knee, his fingers threaded together in his lap.

Her fingers moved without her conscious directive as her mind tried to wrap itself around the bizarre situation. Not the first of their short tenure together, for sure, but another odd event that stretched the boundaries of what she considered within the realm of normal possibility.

She snorted, taking a sip of her tea. Oh, what was normal, really? Perhaps she should reevaluate and stop wasting energy trying to make him, or any of this, fit some carefully prescribed mold. It was likely healthier for her mental state in the long run if she just gave over and accepted that for however long they were in each other’s company, shit would be weird. So long as he never did anything that hurt her, she couldn’t really see the harm in just...accepting this bizarre turn of fate. The Universe had a funny way of doing things.

He let out a little grumble as her fingers slowed their meandering through his hair. A gentle, childlike sound of reproof that plucked her heartstrings just so, and she pursed her lips in amusement, gazing down at his dozing self.

She settled against the back of the couch, careful to keep her hand playing among his locks as she pondered. He was large, drunk, and nearly asleep on her knee, purring contentedly. He invaded her space, poked through her things, and was exceedingly puzzled by Greek yogurt. He was considerate of her and, despite his nosiness, obeyed all her rules.

She liked him. And if her reactions to his purring and absent caresses at her table were any indication, so did several very important parts of her anatomy. 

She tried shoving the thought away but it slipped from her grasp and traveled south without her permission, landing with a throb between her legs. She gritted her teeth. She was not going to think about  _ that _ , with him. He was her weird new friend, and that’s how it would stay.

The object of her musings stirred where he sat as if her thoughts called to him. He lifted his head and looked around blearily. He turned and met her gaze, his brow furrowed in adorable confusion.

“Hey there, spaceman.” She smiled at him. He didn’t respond, just looked at her with that vaguely lost expression, too tap-hackled for cogent speech at the moment. His unique eyes flicked over her face and she wondered if he was seeing two of her. 

He needed sleep, badly, but she didn’t trust him to get back to his ship in one piece by himself. She didn’t know how his transport implant worked, either, and wasn’t about to fuss with biotechnology she didn’t understand.

She sighed. Time, then, to break her own rule of ‘no aliens in the bedroom’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH OK BUT WHAT ABOUT THE FRENCH FRIES.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How hard can it be to wrestle a drunk alien into bed?

Setting her cup down, she started to get up, trying not to bump him as she scooted back and gracelessly pulled her legs up and over to one side. Rumple was altogether unhelpful, resting there like the drunk lizard he was and not moving an inch even as she awkwardly tried to maneuver herself off the couch. Those large eyes of his were trained on her every move and she flushed with embarrassment as he watched her ungainly flailing. She huffed in annoyance as she clambered around him to stand.

He looked up at her blearily, his eyes drooping closed, and her annoyance shifted to fond exasperation. She shook her head, turning to shove her coffee table back a few feet so she could help him up. The slight commotion must have startled him awake, as she heard a peevish growl from behind her while she was bent over moving the table. She straightened and turned back to find his eyes on her once more, a slight scowl joining the bleariness.

“Wake you up, did I?” She smirked. “Come on then, spaceman. Time for bed.”

She reached a hand down to help him up. He stared at it, narrowing his eyes. She wriggled her fingers, trying to get the message across but he didn’t budge.

She pulled back with a huff. “Rumple, you’ve got to meet me halfway here. Unless you _want_ to sleep on the floor tonight?”

He grunted. “Ship.”

She laughed, earning her a deeper scowl.

“Uh, no. You’re not going back to your ship, not in this state.” She held out both her hands. “You’d probably blip yourself in half. Come on, I’ll help you up.”

He heaved a beleaguered sigh but held up his hands. She grasped them and tugged, cantilevering as he pulled himself up. He managed to get to his feet but pitched forward into her, nearly knocking her down with his momentum. She managed to catch him but struggled to keep her grip as he slumped against her, giggling into her hair. Her breath came in labored pants, the sheer exertion of trying to keep a drunk-heavy alien upright nearly too much for her slight frame.

She managed to get herself under one of his arms, settling it across her shoulders. She slid her arm around his waist and managed to get them both moving towards her bedroom.

He giggled again as they walked and leaned his head down to rest on top of hers.

“You’re so _tiny_ ,” he slurred and she rolled her eyes.

“As you keep reminding me.”

She opened the door, maneuvering them both inside and towards the bed, depositing him as gently as she could before moving to turn on the lamp on her bedside table. He looked around the softly-lit room dazedly for a moment before bringing confused eyes back to hers.

“What’s this place?”

She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “My bedroom.”

His eyes grew wide. “No. Oh no, no, _no_ . This won’t do at _all_ ,” he rasped, struggling to stand. Belle gently pushed him back down.

“Belle, _no_ . I can’t be in here.” His hands shot up, grabbing her wrists as her hands rested on his shoulders, panic etched on his face. “It’s against the _rules_.”

She smiled down at him in reassurance.

“Rumple, it’s okay. I made that rule and I can break it.” She pressed his shoulders firmly when he squirmed again. “No, spaceman. You need sleep.”

His mouth twitched, forming a small _oh_ of confusion.

“But it’s a _rule_ ,” he whispered, his eyes darting around without landing on anything in particular.

Belle sighed. She bent down, chasing his gaze until she caught it and putting her hands gently on his jaw to bring his focus to her.

“Hey,” she said, “you’re staying here tonight so I know you’re safe. Alright?” Her thumbs stroked over his jaw, the scaled, multi-hued skin smoother than she expected.

His eyes were huge and liquid as he gazed back at her, a faint glimmer of drunken awe flickering across his face. He nodded.

“Yes,” he agreed, and she saw his lower lip quiver. “I’m sorry you broke a rule for me,” he said miserably.

She chuckled wryly. _Oh, Rumple, you don’t know the half of it._

* * *

After making sure he wouldn’t topple off the bed while getting undressed, Belle had said goodnight, excusing herself to settle in on the couch. She’d been rummaging around her linen closet, pulling out a sheet, blanket, and pillows to make herself a comfortable little nest, when muffled growls of frustration made their way through her bedroom door. She frowned. What could be the issue? She pushed the linens back into the closet and closed it before walking cautiously up to her bedroom door and knocking.

“Rumple,” she called, “is everything alright?”

Silence met her question. She reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. She wasn’t keen on seeing him in whatever state of undress he was in, lest they _both_ died of mortification, but the continuing silence was unnerving. She turned the knob and poked her head in.

Rumple sat on the bed in the same spot she’d left him. His shoulders were hunched, legs stretched out in front of him. He’d managed to remove his vest and had untucked his billowing shirt, the buttons open halfway down his chest. He gave a great, heaving sigh, his back rising and falling with the motion.

“Everything going okay in here?” She curled a hand around the edge of the door, pressing it open a little wider.

He shook his head. “No,” he muttered miserably, pointing at his knee-high, laced-front boots as if they’d insulted his mother. “These _blasted_ things won’t come off.”  He shook his head, his face darkening as he flailed a hand in the general direction of his footwear. “I don’t want to sleep in my bloody shoes but the _laces_ refuse to _cooperate_.”

Belle bit her lip hard to keep from giggling. It wouldn’t be wise to laugh at his distress, however amusing his stupefaction at his shoelaces was. She slipped into the room, making her way to Rumple’s side. She gulped a little as she caught a glimpse of his chest, the deep triangle of skin hairless and burnished in the low light. Her face grew warm but she gamely ignored it and instead sat next to him, bumping her shoulder gently against his.

“Do you want some help?”

He nodded. “Yes, please,” he sighed. The sweetness of it pulled at her and she smiled.

“Can do, spaceman.”

She slid down to the floor, sitting on her knees as she bent over one of the shoes, her eyes widening at the sheer amount of lacing on the front.

“How did you even get these on to begin with?” She shot an incredulous look at him before gamely attacking the knotted mess he’d made of the laces in his inebriated attempt to remove the boots.

He twirled a lazy hand in the air. “M’wardrobe, of course,” he mumbled as he watched her, fatigue coating his words. “It’s quite helpful.”

Belle hummed noncommittally from her spot on the floor as she worked her way through the laces, loosening one boot enough to slide it off before moving to the next. She darted a glance at his feet once the shoes were removed, some odd part of her relieved to see he had very normal-looking feet, save for that pretty skin of his and the dark nails. She shook herself mentally, raising her eyes to his once more.

“There we go.” She pushed herself to her feet, smiling at him. “I’ll give you privacy for the rest. Goodnight.” She moved towards the door but his voice stopped her. She turned back around, a question on her face.

“I don’t,” he said, his slurred voice uncertain, “I-I don’t--back on m’ship--” He trailed off and she gave him a confused look. He sighed.

“Nightwear.” His eyes darted away from her, his cheeks darkening. His fingers fluttered where his hands rested on his thighs. “Might I borrow something?”

She took a few steps closer. “Well, sure you can, but,” she gave a helpless look at her dresser, “most of my nightwear is, well, for women.”

His fingers stilled and he frowned, shooting her an incredulous look. “Your species _genders_ their nightwear?” He shook his head. “Will wonders never cease?”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me see what I have that might fit you.” She moved to the large oak dresser opposite the end of her bed, bending over and pulling open a drawer towards the bottom. She rifled through a few things for herself before pulling out a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of cozy grey joggers she thought would work for him.

She pursed her lips. Well, they _might_ . He was larger than her, after all. Wiry and male and...and she would _not_ continue to think about his physique! She scowled at herself but cleared her face before she turned around.

“These might be a bit snug, but hopefully you’ll be comfortable.”

He accepted the clothing with a serious nod. “Thank you.”

“Can you,” she gestured to the clothes in his arms, “manage?”

“I shall do my best.” He gave her a tiny bow, clutching the clothes to his chest, the sight making her giggle as she backed towards the door.   
“Ok, well, I’ll be in the living room, so let me know if you need anything before you go to sleep.” She opened the door but turned back to him, suddenly shy. “If, you know, you wake up and don’t feel well, just, ah, just yell. I’ll hear it.”

She turned and slipped out of the door, shutting it softly behind her.

* * *

Despite puttering around her living area for a while, changing into her pajamas, clearing the tea dishes and preparing the couch for sleep, she couldn’t shake thoughts of Rumple.

Perhaps she would check on him. Briefly and only to be sure he was alright. Maybe put her small trash bin next to the bed, just in case. She wondered if his species got as sick as hers after having too much alcohol.

She went back to the door, knocking softly and calling to him, waiting for a response. Nothing came. She opened the door and spotted him sprawled on his stomach, fast asleep on her bed with his arms curled around one of her pillows and one leg drawn up. He hadn’t managed to make it underneath the covers or turn off the bedside light but had apparently maneuvered himself into the pajamas without issue. His clothing was in a haphazardly folded pile by the bed and she shook her head fondly.

She tiptoed to the bedside table, reaching for the lamp pull, but stopped, looking at him. The light washed over his face lovingly, the soft glow catching the gold in his skin. She laughed quietly through her nose; some women would kill to get that kind of highlight on their cheeks and this space lizard friend of hers was naturally perfectly illuminated. It was unfair.

He let out a small whimper,  burying his face deeper into the pillow with a sigh. Her eyes shifted down his form, widening as she noticed how her joggers stretched tight over his backside. She mentally scolded herself. No ogling the guests.

Gently reaching over him and dislodging the covers, she draped them across his sleeping form. She wasn’t sure how his body temperature worked at night but didn’t want to take the chance that he’d get cold and wake cranky. A surly alien was the last thing she needed on a Saturday morning. She tucked the edges around him, smoothing her hand absently down his back as she finished, and he let out a little chirruping purr, squirming in his sleep.

She stilled, her hand on his back and a small, bemused smile curving her mouth. He was going to kill her with those adorable noises he kept making. They were full-grown adults and here she was wanting to wrap him up and keep him safe...from what? Bad dreams? What did aliens even dream about? _Did_ they dream?

A sudden thought sent her heart crashing into her stomach. What if something went wrong between his body and the alcohol, more than just nausea or a bad hangover, and he woke alone and confused?

She bit her lip as she contemplated staying. He was her responsibility, her friend. She’d just grab something to read and set up camp next to him on the bed to keep watch. Only for his safety.

She sighed as she darted out to the living room. He really was going to be the death of her.

She snatched _Her Handsome Hero_ from the coffee table and an extra blanket from the closet, making her way back to her room quick as a wink. She settled carefully on the free side of her bed so as not to disturb his slumber, tucking her blanket around her legs and propping the book on her raised knees.

She decided to pick up where he left off when she’d gotten home that evening. He’d looked to be about halfway through, probably close to her second favorite part of the book.

The heroine was trying to reason with the great beast that had captured her and tied her to a tree. He’d offered her a riddle to solve and if she did, he would let her go. She was finding the riddle particularly difficult and theorized that it was unsolvable on purpose. Belle chuckled, the beast’s befuddlement at being found out that quickly never failing to amuse her.

Rumple grumbled in his sleep, drawing Belle’s eyes to him. He shifted once more, not waking but turning towards her and settling on his side. A few wavy locks slipped over his face and he wrinkled his nose as he burrowed deeper into the covers. Just his closed eyes were visible above the edge of the blanket, a small frown puckering his forehead. She reached out, gently moving the hair off of his face and the frown faded.

She tried to return to the book, but her attention kept wandering back to Rumple. He looked so sweet, curled up in her blanket and drunkenly dozing the night away. Occasional snuffles and grumbles escaped him and she wondered if he always slept like this or if the alcohol made this a special case.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. Her curiosity about him was too distracting and she wasn’t getting any reading done for the time being. She set the book on the ground and shifted lower on the bed, curling up and facing him. She tucked her arms under her head and simply gazed at him for a moment, sating a bit of her wonder at this strange creature doing something as normal as sleeping off a bender in her bed.

She’d go back to the couch in a few minutes.

* * *

 

_“My dearest lady, it’s quite simple: solve the riddle, gain your freedom.” He grinned, dappled forest sunlight playing across his unique skin as he slinked closer to her._

_She scowled and tugged at the bonds anchoring her to the wide oak tree._

_“You are being purposefully obtuse, sir. It is an unfathomable riddle; of this, you are well aware.”_

_He gasped, pressing a green-gold hand to his chest quite theatrically. “Such large words for such a small thing as yourself.” He stepped ever closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “The more you struggle, the more the rope tears your pretty dress, my lady.”_

_She tossed her head in defiance, her silken brown curls tumbling over her shoulder._

_“What care I for dresses? My kingdom is missing its queen, all because a forest sprite grew bored and decided to bother the humans.” She smirked at him. “He forgets his place among my subjects.”_

_He closed the distance between them swiftly, grasping her chin with firm, warm fingers and thrusting her face up to meet his._

_“I am no mere forest sprite, and you are not yet queen.”_

_She narrowed her bright blue eyes at him. “Not since you stole me from the coronation. For what purpose? Loneliness? Is there no female sprite fit for your amusement? Fit to be your prize?”_

_His grip tightened, cutting off her words._

_“Enough. Solve the riddle or perish in the forest.”_

_She stared at him, rebellion in her eyes._

_“Repeat it to me.”_

_He spoke, his voice harsh and impatient, an edge of desperation crowding the words.  
_

_“I am just two and two; I am hot, I am cold._

_I'm the parent of numbers that cannot be told._

_I'm a gift beyond measure, a matter of course;_

I'm yielded with pleasure when void of force.”  
  
She grinned, her eyes flicking to his mouth.

_“I know the answer.”_

_The bonds holding her to the tree suddenly released themselves and she fell forward into his arms._

_“Well then, lady? What say you?”_

_She shook her head._

_“I shall say nothing, sir,” she murmured, stretching up onto her toes, “but speak volumes with one action.”_

_She pressed her lips to his._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys think. I'll admit, I was hesitant to post his because it's shorter than usual and it's very...simple. I'd love to hear your feedback. You're all wonderful, thank you for reading.


	18. Chapter 18

Belle came awake with a start, the strange dream lingering in her mind, vivid as reality. Her subconscious had taken the book passage in an entirely different direction, one she didn’t care to poke at. Early morning sunlight bathed the room in a rosy hue and she stretched a bit, dislodging the lingering effects of the dream before she realized where she was.

And who was with her.

Somehow, those few minutes of watching him had slipped into a full-on sleepover and now Rumple was cuddled against her back with his legs tucked in behind hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her slight stretching had caused him to stir and she froze, praying she hadn’t woken him.

His arm tightened where it lay curled around her middle, anchoring her to his body and the lulling warmth that emanated from him as they lay beneath her blanket. Warm puffs of his breath sent little shivers down her spine as he buried his nose in her hair, settling with a low rumbling sigh.

Her mind whirred as she sought how best to extract herself from the bed without waking him. The last thing she needed on a Saturday morning was an ornery alien made all the crankier from interrupted sleep after a bender. Not to mention the awkwardness that would result when he realized he was holding her like a lover.

A part of her mind perked up at the idea but she ignored it. She squeezed her eyes shut before enacting her exit plant, allowing herself a brief moment of regret at having to leave the warm, if embarrassing, little cocoon they’d made.

She reached down slowly, gently grasping his wrist and prying his arm from around her as gradually and silently as she could. She slid out from under the blanket, one inch at a time, sighing with relief as her feet finally touched the floor. She sat up, turning just enough to place his arm on the bed as she lifted herself carefully off the mattress. By some miracle, he stayed asleep.

After smoothing the covers over her side of the bed, she tiptoed towards the door, opening it and slipping out into the hallway, heading towards the bathroom.

She flicked on the bathroom light, staring at herself in the mirror above the sink and blowing out a sigh that left a small patch of fog on the glass.

It was fine. Everything was fine. She’d merely fallen asleep when she hadn’t meant to and they’d accidentally ended up cuddling. Everyone had remained fully clothed. No harm, no foul. She ran her hands through her hair, rubbing at her scalp as she yawned. No need to make a fuss about it as it would only embarrass them both, regardless of how warm and comfortable she’d felt when she woke, before her sanity had caught up with her and cleared the remnants of that strange dream.

She shook the thought away, moving to the tub and perching on the edge. If she didn’t hurry, she’d miss Market Day and as it was likely the last she’d be able to attend for a while, she was keen to get her rear in gear.

She loved Market days; all the stalls set up on Main Street with the roads closed off so the public could wander safely, autumn treats at every stall, a chilly nip in the early morning air. Not counting holidays, these were the best days of the year.

Her mind wandered as she fiddled with the taps on her tub and ran her fingers through the water, testing the temperature in preparation for a shower. Would Rumple like Market Day? All the townsfolk milling about, chatting and haggling over everything except the sweets? She smiled. It would be fun to take him to the donut stand, see how he’d handle the different flavors they had on offer. He’d probably smudge powdered sugar on his face and how cute would it be to just reach up on her toes and kiss it off--

She jerked her hand back with a hiss as the testy pipes shot out a stream of hot water. It had the benefit of tearing her out of her daydream and she frowned as she shook the pain from her hand. She wasn’t taking him outside to Market Day. It was too early to be able to explain away his unique appearance with a Halloween party or something.

No, he had to stay there, or at his ship. Either way, not in full view of the public, for both their sakes. She sighed wistfully, tugging the valve to switch the water from the faucet to the shower head.

* * *

She showered quickly, wrapping her hair and body in towels when she finished and cracking a window to let out the steam. Her stomach dropped as she reached the doorknob.

Going back into her bedroom in a towel was not going to happen. She pursed her lips. Her pajamas were the only clothing option for the moment but not her favorite thing to do. Rolling her eyes at herself, she donned the pants and shirt and slipped back into her bedroom quietly, hair still wrapped, and began tiptoeing to her closet.

“Good morning.”

She jumped and whipped around, a blush on her cheeks.

“Hey! You’re awake!” Keen observation, genius. “How did you sleep?”

Rumple was upright in her bed, looking no worse for the wear save for his sleep-mussed hair. He’d bunched the covers around his knees, making him look like a strange green-gold bird in its nest.

“Well enough.” He kept his eyes on his lap.

“Are you feeling ok? Do you need anything? Water, pain pills, hair of the dog?” She grinned.

He shook his head. “No, I’m quite recovered.” He twisted the blankets in his hands. “Belle, I appreciate your generosity last night. I apologize if I was a spectacle. I hadn’t anticipated the effect your planet’s alcohol would have on my person.” He sighed. “I am also keenly aware that you broke your rules by allowing me in here. I thank you for that, as well.”

Belle smiled gently. “Hey, spaceman. Don’t be so formal. We all get rip-roaring drunk from time to time. I’m just glad you didn’t put up too much of a fight when I dumped you in here.”

She moved to her closet, rummaging through her clothes. “I’m just glad you didn’t get sick or anything.” She poked her head out, sending him a look of curiosity. “You just got really warm, like you had a fever? Only not? I don’t know.” She reached back into the closet, pulling out a dark grey dress and a pair of black booties, contemplating a deep wine cardigan for a moment before tugging it off the hanger. She left her closet.

“Do you need anything before I go change? I have somewhere to be this morning, but I could whip something up for you real quick for breakfast.” She grinned. “Have you ever had a pancake?”

“How did you know that my temperature rose in the night?” His eyebrows shot up.

She blanched. Oops.

“Uh, well,” she shifted her weight, “I might have… watched over you. B-but only for a few minutes.”

It wasn’t technically a lie, after all. It had only been a few minutes before she’d gone and fallen asleep.

“Whatever for?” he said, bemused.

“To make sure nothing happened to you from all the alcohol.” She grimaced. “Sorry. That’s probably creepy, right? I was just worried. You had almost an entire bottle of really good Tasmanian whisky and that stuff could knock out a horse.”

His baffled expression melted into something softer.

“Oh,” he breathed, gazing at her, “that’s… there’s no need to apologize. That was very kind.”

She ducked her head, blushing and picking invisible lint off the clothing in her arms. “Nah, just, you know, trying to be a good host. Can’t very well let the guest die of alcohol poisoning, right?” She chuckled weakly.

“Anyway,” she jerked a thumb towards the door, “I need to get dressed, so, I’m going to do that.”

“Wait,” he called when she turned, “may I ask where you are headed this morning? Do you have to attend your library?”

She laughed for real this time. “Nope. I have an assistant who mans the library on the weekends so I can actually have a life.” She bounced on her heels. “No, today is a Market Day for Storybrooke, which is just about the best thing ever besides Christmas. And Halloween. And Thanksgiving.”

Nothing she’d said made any sense to him, she could see it, but he nodded like he’d understood, good sport that he was.

“And this Market Day,” he gestured in the air, “I assume from the name that goods are for sale? Similar to a bazaar?”

She beamed at him, pleased. “Exactly! Only it’s mostly mulled cider and fun donuts and other food and non-food treats.” She bounced again. “It’s my favorite!”

He sent her a fleeting grin.“I understand. I enjoy the bazaars on my planet, as well.”

Was it her imagination or was his little smile a touch wistful? The gears of her mind churned, turning up an odd question that belonged in a sci-fi movie, not real life. But then, hadn’t her life become an odd blend of both as of late?

“Enjoy, then,” he said warmly. “I shall vacate posthaste and process the data that I neglected yesterday.” He chuckled, fussing with the blanket and dropping his eyes.

She stood there, arms full of clothes and the idea running around her mind, demanding to be expressed. She took a breath to speak but paused. Was it stupid to ask? The worst he could say would be no.

Well, not the worst, if she was honest with herself. There was outright mockery, or offense…

She shook her head. Stop being an idiot and just ask.

“Rumple,” she ventured haltingly, fussing with a button on the cardigan she held before looking up at him, “you have several different types of advanced technology, haven’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow, pinning her with a sharp gaze. “Yes,” he replied slowly, “why do you ask?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get all suspicious on me, weirdo. I was just curious.” She shrugged.

“That mind of yours is never ‘just curious’, Belle.” His gaze turned droll. “What are you wondering?”

“If,” she faltered, “if there’s some kind of tech on that ship of yours that can, um, transform you? Like--like a cloaking device?” She bit her lip; the idea sounded stupid hanging in the air like that. She waited for his censure.

He frowned. “Well, yes. Of course.”

“Wait, really?” Her jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. “Why do you have that?”

He scowled. “Does it matter? Why would you need it?”

“Oh, no, not for me, for you!” She sent him a tentative smile. “Random idea here, but, maybe you might like to come with me? To--to Market Day?” She bit her lip.

His jaw worked and his face blanked once more.

“It’s always more fun with a friend,” she cajoled. “Think of it like undercover field research, observing more humans in their native habitat.” She bit her lip, trying to refrain from outright begging as she realized just how much she liked the idea. “What do you say?”

He closed his mouth with a snap and narrowed his eyes.

“So you think we’re friends, do you?”

She narrowed hers right back, putting her free hand on a hip.

“Oh, that we are, spaceman. You drank my best booze and slept in my bed. We’re practically family.”

Another bemused little smile escaped him before he could stop it. He quickly schooled his features into something resembling a frown, but couldn’t quite make it stick.

“Fine, then,” he grumbled, “if only to avoid those great blue fountains you call ‘eyes’ overflowing again.” He shooed her away with both hands. “Well? Go get dressed, you nosy dust mite. I don’t have all day to spend frolicking among the flowers.”

She laughed at him, knowing she’d won, and trying not to marvel at how fast he’d agreed. She darted out, doing her best not to squeal in excitement.

* * *

Belle dressed and styled her hair in record time, then went back to her living room to wait. She fidgeted as the minutes ticked by, buttoning and unbuttoning her cardigan, tugging and smoothing her pale grey tights into submission, wrestling with the unused linens still on the couch and cursing whoever invented the fitted sheet.

She had gone to the linen closet when she felt the atmosphere of her little apartment shift in the way it did when Rumple blipped in. She hurriedly shoved the rest of the linen inside and slammed the door.

“Coming! Just putting stuff away!” She called, hurrying back to the living room. “Takes forever to fold a fitted sheet so I just shoved everything in there for later--”

Her jaw dropped.

A striking man of around middle age stood in her living room, dressed head-to-toe in what appeared to be Brioni, from his long, dark coat to the impeccable three-piece suit beneath it. A deep royal blue shirt and black tie with a silver tie pin sat under the vest and a stunning pair of perfectly buffed oxfords completed the ensemble.

Her wide eyes wandered back up his body. Hair that brushed his collar was shot through liberally with silver, the layered strands looking silky-soft, nearly begging for a woman’s hands to run through them. Amber-brown eyes, a thin, gorgeous mouth, and a pronounced nose finished him off.

Her brain forgot to properly function, allowing only one thought on a litany.  
Goddamn.

“R-Rumple?” She took a tiny step closer. His face took on a slightly anxious cast and he shifted his weight, holding his hands behind his back.

“Is this acceptable?”

Holy shit, was it ever.

He flicked those eyes over her, running from her toes back to her head. “Or am I overdressed?”

She nodded slowly. “Uh, y-yeah. I mean, no. No, you’re fine. This is fine.”

More than fine. ‘Fucking gorgeous’ was the phrase.

He eyed her. “Are you alright?”

“What?” She blushed. “Yes! Yes, I’m fine. You, uh, you… picked a good suit,” she said lamely, internally cringing. Smooth, Belle.

“Thank you. There are far too many choices for males of your species.”

She managed to produce a snort while the pieces of her brain collected themselves into a reasonable facsimile of intelligence.

“You should see women’s clothing.”

“What makes you think I didn’t?”

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment before she shut it.

“Right.” She cleared her throat, willing herself to calm the hell down. He was handsome. She’d seen handsome men before. Not quite the mouthwatering, buttoned-up kind of handsome Rumple was presenting her with, but still. She was a goddamned adult, she could handle one hot guy.

A traitorous voice in her head slyly suggested that perhaps it was this particular guy more than the pretty facade he sported at the moment that had her practically in a puddle. She took a breath through her nose, pasting a smile on her face.

“Ready to go?”

He nodded, gesturing to the door. “After you.”

They made it to the first floor without Belle falling on her face or swallowing her tongue, and she thanked god for small miracles.

Rumple looked so damn good. It wasn’t fair and it certainly wasn’t helping the odd feelings for him that kept filtering through her brain. She didn’t know what she expected when she asked him about a cloaking device, but that overly-handsome jackass wasn’t anywhere on the list.

As a result, she had to tamp down on a sudden crankiness that wasn’t really his fault, despite being inspired by him. She had asked for this and she got what she deserved. Besides, it was more important to go to Market Day and show him more of the town she loved. She needed to focus on the goal.

Stopping at the circulation desk to check in with her assistant briefly before they made their way onto Main Street, she gave the girl a few notes on the reshelving to be done that day. The girl listened, nodding at Belle’s instructions but her eyes slid to Rumple with subtle interest now and then. Belle quelled the sudden urge to hiss like a threatened cat, wrapping up her conversation quickly and tugging Rumple along with her towards the door. Her assistant waved at them both as they departed and Belle turned away after returning the gesture, hiding a scowl.

What the hell was wrong with her? It was just Rumple in a disguise. She’d known women who could do leagues more with makeup. The only difference in him was the lack of green-gold skin, really. Same face. Same hair, only straightened. Same dramatic style. She told herself to get a fucking grip as she joined him.

“Everything alright, Belle?” He looked down at her with concern.

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m just… nevermind.”

She pushed the library door open, blinking in the bright light of morning. As she’d hoped, the scent of the impending first frost of the season was carried along the breeze, along with the smell of cinnamon and apples. She smiled, the anticipation of the market banking her distraction at Rumple’s disguise, and she closed her eyes on a deep inhale.

“Mmm. I love autumn.”

She opened her eyes, catching sight of Rumple as one eyebrow crooked upward in his temporarily human-like face.

“What?” she said, an embarrassed smile curving her mouth. She shrugged. “I like the way everything smells.”

“Yes, I can tell. You’ve practically bored holes in my arm with your fingers in your excitement.”

She looked at his forearm, her fingers clutching at the sleeve of his beautiful dark coat, wrinkling the fine wool. She hadn’t even been aware of grabbing him.

“Oh! Sorry!” She released him and he chuckled.

“I’ll survive, I’m sure.”

They made their way towards the center of town, the stalls up and bustling already. She swung her arms by her sides like a child, resisting the urge to skip.

“If I could bottle your energy, it would run my ship for eons.”

She snorted, shooting him a look. “Your ship runs on plastic.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Easy enough to switch.” He grinned evilly at her. “Shall we hook you up to the engine and see what happens?”

“You’re so weird.”

They wove their way among the throng of cheerful, noisy people, some calling to Belle. She waved and greeted them in return, the jovial mood around her as infectious as ever, buoying her along and removing the last traces of her nerves at his disguise. It felt so good to simply exist in the crowd.

She spied the cider stall and made a beeline for it. Picking up two steaming cups of hot mulled cider from Leroy Smith, she turned to hand one to Rumple before paying. Belle smiled at Leroy, complimenting him on his obvious devotion to his wife, Astrid, helping her with the booth while she assisted the nuns with their apple bobbing booth. He waved her off with a blush--“go on, sister, get a donut to go with that cider”-- and she laughed.

She turned back to Rumple, daring to slip her free hand into the crook of his elbow, and steering them a little ways away from the cider stall, out of the immediate press of people.

“You’ll like that; trust me,” she said, pointing to his cup. “Just be careful, it’s going to be hot.”

He sniffed the cider experimentally, humming before pursing his lips to blow steam hovering on the surface. He took a small sip. She watched his eyebrows shoot up as he swallowed and she hid her smile in her own cup, the warm, tart liquid taking her to a nostalgic place as she sipped.

“Good?”

He slanted her a look. “Of course, and you well know it.”

She shrugged, grinning impishly. “I just like to hear you say it.” She took a larger mouthful of cider, swallowing as she watched him work through the drink.

“Keep some of that handy, Rumple. We’re going to the donut stall next and you’ll need cider to wash down what I’m planning to get you.”

He licked his lips and nodded. “I see.”

She was suddenly paralyzed by the dart of his tongue as it chased the flavor of cider from his lips. Her eyes were fastened on his mouth, the sheen of moisture gleaming in the early morning light.

“Oh,” she breathed. She swallowed, her eyes flicking up to his. Her stomach tightened at the look in them. She’d seen a similar look there once or twice before, in his normal state, and it dawned on her that it was perilously close to desire, what she saw there in the amber depths. His eyes fell to her lips and her tongue flicked out to wet them in turn.

A wet nose at her calf yanked her back to reality. She jumped, turning to see Pongo sniffing her, his tail wagging furiously.

“Belle!”

Archie stood there, Pongo’s leash in hand. A carefully neutral expression was pasted on his face as his gazed between Belle and Rumple.

“A-Archie, what… I didn’t know you were coming today.” She tried to remove her hand from Rumple’s elbow but suddenly found it trapped between his arm and his body. She glanced up at him.

He was glaring at Archie, his nostrils flaring. Pongo was sniffing around Rumple’s feet, grunting uncertainly, but Rumple ignored him.

“I rarely miss a Market Day. You should know that, we usually go together.” He adjusted his glasses, glancing to Rumple. “I-I can see you’re busy, though. My apologies. Have a nice day.”

He tugged Pongo’s leash, the dog reluctantly complying as he was pulled away from his curious sniffing, and began to walk away.

Belle nearly groaned aloud but settled for a stiff sigh.

“Archie, wait.”

He stopped, turning back to her. She tugged her hand free of Rumple’s arm and moved to Archie, wrapping him in an affectionate hug. She was relieved when he returned it, one-armed though it was.

She released him. “We’re in a fight and I hate it and I want it to stop.” She bit her lip. “Can it be over?”

Archie chuckled, his cheeks pinkening. “I hate it, too.” He nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I-I’d like that.”

Belle smiled. “Good.” She turned, looking at Rumple over her shoulder. His face was a thundercloud and she shot him a look. Behave!

He wrinkled his nose petulantly and she frowned. What looked adorable on his normal face looked childish on his human facade. Interesting.

“Archie, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She beckoned Rumple over. He complied with all the alacrity of a man doomed for the executioner’s block and she made a mental note to have a word with him later.

Archie, sweetheart that he was, held out a hand immediately as Rumple joined them.

“Archibald Hopper, but everyone calls me Archie. Nice to meet you, Mr…?”

“Robert,” Belle chirped, inspired. “Robert…Gold.” She smiled, pleased at her quickness.

Rumple sent her a look that promised retribution but stuck out his hand to press Archie’s briefly.

“Archie,” Rumple said, his voice dry as kindling. “Finally, a face to the name. Belle speaks of you highly.”

Archie smiled, shooting a glance at Belle. “Ah, yes, well. She’s very kind.”

Rumple gave him a thin smile. Pongo resumed his thorough sniffing of Rumple’s shoes.

“Robert is the one I mentioned the other day, Archie.” Belle sent Rumple a scowl that Archie thankfully missed. “Remember? At dinner?”

“Oh!” Archie sent her an understanding look. “Oh, so that’s what you meant! Goodness, I had it all backward, didn’t I?” He shook his head with a rueful chuckle, bringing his attention back to Rumple.

“I take it from your accent that you’re from Scotland, Mr. Gold?” Archie smiled, all honest curiosity.

Rumple scowled at him. “Accent? Scotland?” He caught the death threat-via-glare Belle sent him from next to Archie and sighed with a heavy roll of his eyes. “Yes, of course. Scotland. Land of the… Scot.”

“That’s wonderful. Belle told me she had a friend who was an alien and for a moment I thought she meant outer space, but I see she meant that you’re just from another country!” He smiled, looking at Belle. “I was a bit brainless, it seems.”

Belle laughed weakly. “Ha, well…”

“From which part of Scotland do you hail, Mr. Gold?”

“Hey, who wants a donut?” Belle interjected desperately. She turned to Rumple. “Let’s get a donut, Rum--Robert. Shall we?”

She caught Archie’s knowing look as he split his gaze between them. He gave Belle a small smile and a wink.

“I won’t keep you two, then. Enjoy your day.” He held out his hand to Rumple once more. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Gold.”

Rumple took it with a noncommittal grunt, releasing as quickly as he’d gripped, and Archie moved off in the direction of Marco Legna and his woodcut offerings, tugging a defiant Pongo behind him.

Belle slipped her hand back into the crook of Rumple’s arm as they set off towards the donut stall, silent save for the crowd around them. She could feel him staring at her and lifted her eyes up to his face. He raised an eyebrow.

“Scotland?"  
  
She scowled. “Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donut time!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making cracks in the ceiling separating us from that E rating.
> 
> Many many many thanks to the wonderful Autumnstar for being a wonderful beta and friend ❤️❤️❤️

Belle eyed the brilliant display of confections before her with undisguised lust.

“I’d like a dozen, please. One of each flavor.”

She let out a little squeak of glee as they were boxed up by the stall attendant. After handing over a few bills, she gave her cup to Rumple, grabbed a handful of napkins, took the box and marched them both to the bench outside Granny’s, clear of the throng of people milling around the stalls like bees at a hive.

Lifting the lid of the box, she bent over it, taking a deep inhale and sighing in pleasure as she gazed longingly at the brightly glazed donuts, each one a perfect little world she was ready to devour.

“Would you prefer to eat them or wed them?”

“Both,” she said with a wistful sigh. “They’re so magically pretty. Look!”

She pushed the box under his nose and he held it off with one hand, a cup still clutched in his grasp.

“I can see well enough from where I am, thank you.” He leaned down, setting their cups on the ground near his feet. “Though I draw the line at ‘magical’.”

She deposited the box back in her lap, wriggling her fingers in the air as she mulled over which to eat first.

“Do you have a preference?” she asked, turning her head to him with a smile.

He looked at her hands.

“You resemble a gleeful wizard triumphing over a foe, waggling your fingers like that.” He sent her a crooked grin. “It’s positively medieval.”

She giggled. “How poetic of you, Rumple. Now answer my question.”

He shrugged and pointed to a donut.

“That one seems like it may not kill me.”

“Ooh, good choice,” Belle praised. “That’s the vanilla bean glazed ring. It’s delicious.”

She picked it up, tearing it in half and handing one to Rumple. He took it gingerly, sniffing it as was his wont with all earth food before taking a small bite, his expression thoughtful.

Belle ate half of hers in one bite, chewing happily and swinging her legs a bit where she sat. She watched Rumple take another bite before popping the rest into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hummed, a bit of surprise in the noise. “That’s actually quite good.”

“Told you,” she said around her mouthful. She swallowed. “You can’t go wrong with fried dough and a simple glaze.”

“I seem to recall something similar said about hamburgers,” he retorted, slanting her a look as he sucked the sugar off his fingers.

Breathing suddenly became difficult and she forced her eyes back to the box, landing on a cookies-and-cream filled donut and grabbing it as if it were a lifeline.

“Well, I-I was right, wasn’t I?” She gave him half again, nearly shoving it in his mouth herself in her nervousness. “Here, try this one next.”

He laughed as he leaned back while skillfully plucking it from her hands before she accidentally smeared it on his face. That little spark of simple joy transformed his face for a brief moment, and she watched him with a strange mix of awe and panic as he tested the second treat.

He took a larger bite this time, apparently trusting the donuts wouldn’t poison him, or at least not enough to avoid enjoyment of them.

“Gods, Belle, what is in these things?” He gave her a comically befuddled look. “They are indecent.”

A smile tugged at her mouth, unbidden. “You have the worst sweet tooth of anyone I know,” she said.

He’d managed to avoid her smearing anything on his face but hadn’t quite done the same for himself. A dollop of cookies-and-cream filling sat at the corner of his mouth, unnoticed by Rumple as he chewed and made more noises of enjoyment.

She caught herself reaching up to remove the spot of cream, but stopped, snatching her hand back to her lap. He caught the movement and sent her a questioning glance.

“Um, sorry,” she said, sheepish, “you have a bit of something right there.” She gestured to his mouth. “I can just…”

He held very still as she reached up once more, her finger gently scooping the tiny smudge of cream off the corner of his mouth. She held it up to him.

“See? Only a little bit, but I got it.”

She popped the tip of her finger into her mouth, her tongue laving away the sugary patch. She watched him watch her as she did it, that peculiar, near-desirous look back in his eyes. A wild idea came to her, one that hitched her breathing and sent a shock through her. Not a new idea, not by any stretch, but surely a foolish, rash one that would probably be rejected outright. And yet, fortune favored the brave, didn’t it?

She closed the box, putting it to the side on the bench, and scooted closer to Rumple, making sure to keep enough space between them to be respectful if he pushed her away. She took a few breaths to calm herself, her normally cheerful optimism suddenly swamped in an odd insecurity.

She chanced a look at him and saw eyes had widened in what she hoped was pleasant surprise.

“Rumple,” she said slowly, her voice low, “can I--”

“Aren’t you two the cozy pair?” a voice called out.

Belle’s eyes closed in frustration. She knew that voice. She even liked the person attached to it, but it had come at the worst moment. She turned her head towards the interloper, pasting a smile on her face as her boss sauntered towards them.

“Regina,” Belle said, trying for a lightness that didn’t quite land, “hi, how are you today?”

Regina stopped before them, her stylishly short dark hair and long black peacoat fluttering in the slight breeze. She shot Rumple a narrow-eyed, curious look as she bent down to press a kiss to Belle’s cheek.

“Hi, Belle. Oh, those smell good today.” Regina pulled back, the twist of her lips fond as she gazed at Belle.

Belle smiled and reached for the donut box, lifting the lid and pulling out a dark chocolate cherry glazed ring.

“Here, they had your favorite.”

Regina took the donut with a bemused little smile. “How did you know you’d see me today?”

Belle shrugged. “I didn’t, I just got one of everything they had and they happened to have yours.” She smiled, watching Regina take a thoughtful bite of the treat as she slid another glance to Rumple. Belle took the hint.

“Regina, this Robert Gold,” Belle gestured to him, “Robert, this is the mayor of Storybrooke and my boss, Regina Mills.”

“And Belle’s friend. Hi.” Regina stuck out her free hand, luckily her right, for Rumple to shake. He took it with an alacrity he’d lacked when Archie had done the same, Belle saw.

“A pleasure Ms. Mills.” Belle watched him smile, a tad sharklike, and wondered.

“What brings you to our fair town, Mr. Gold?” Regina took another bite of the donut, somehow managing to look dangerous with a small smear of chocolate on her lips that she quickly licked off.

“Well, ‘fair’ is a rather generous term, Ms. Mills, but, ah, I’m here visiting Miss French, of course.” He shrugged. “I’ve yet to see anything that compares to her company.”

Regina rankled at that. Heavily. Belle saw it in her eyes despite the carefully curved smile she gave to Rumple. The town was her darling, second only to her son Henry, and she brooked no outsiders spouting arguments against it.

“Well, perhaps you just haven’t seen enough to make an… intelligent assessment yet.” Her smile turned sickly sweet. “We not only boast Belle as our own,” she said, emphasizing their friendship with the casual use of her name, “but all manner of lovely sights, too.”

She sucked a smear of chocolate cherry glaze from her thumb. “I’d advise you not to be so narrow in your assessments, Mr. Gold. You might find that you enjoy the town itself as much as,” she glanced at Belle, “certain inhabitants.”

Belle nearly dropped her head into her hands, embarrassment making her face flame.

“That sounds like a… well, an invitation of some sort, I’m sure,” Rumple said drily, smirking as he folded his hands in his lap and gazed casually at Regina. “But alas, my business is pressing, and will take me to far larger and more compelling places, I’m afraid.” He flashed his teeth. “Thank you all the same, Ms. Mills.”

Regina wound up to deliver some no-doubt stinging response that would likely escalate whatever the hell kind of pissing match the two were having and Belle nearly jumped up to stop it. She was saved from having to do so by the very timely arrival of one Henry Daniel Mills.

“Hi, Belle!” The boy chirped. The ends of his black-brown hair were a touch wet and he was wiping his face with a napkin, making her guess he’d paid a visit to the apple bobbing area of the market.

Henry’s presence had a way of calming all three adults, giving them something to focus on besides themselves for the moment, and Belle was grateful. It had staved off what promised to be a ridiculous public fight and she wanted to give Henry a massive hug for unknowingly helping settle things down.

Regina’s sudden rage unfurled almost instantly, replaced by a maternally besotted smile and she reached out a hand to smooth the damp strands away from Henry’s face.

“Did you have a good time with the nuns, sweetheart?”

“Yeah! I didn’t catch an apple but that’s ok.” His face split into a grin. “They said I could try again later if I want, for free!” He directed his attention to Rumple in the way that only curious eleven-year-olds could. “Who are you?”

“Henry,” Regina chided, “manners.”

Rumple chuckled, raised hackles smoothing as he gazed at the boy. Belle saw a spark of something paternal in his eyes as he held out a hand, a genuinely warm smile crossing his face.

“I’m Robert Gold, a friend of Miss French’s. It’s lovely to meet you, Henry.”

Henry grasped Rumple’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Gold! Did you bob for apples yet? Do you like apples? I like to bob for them but not really eat them, though my mom says I should ‘cause they’re good for me--”

“Slow down, sweetheart,” Regina interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Miss Belle and Mr. Gold are… on an outing. I don’t think they’ll have time to bob for apples today.”

“Oh, ok,” Henry shrugged, “that’s cool. Ooh, donuts! Can I have one?”

“Henry!”

Belle smiled and laughed. “It’s fine, Regina. I have far too many for just the two of us to eat.” She pulled the box back to her lap but caught sight of Rumple staring at his hands, a wistful little smile on his face.

“Hey, Mr. Gold,” Belle mused, bumping his shoulder with her own and drawing his startled attention, “you want to help Henry pick out a couple of donuts,” she looked to Regina, “if that’s ok with Henry’s mom?”

Regina smiled wryly but nodded yes as she caught Rumple’s eyes. Some small measure of understanding passed between them, allowing them to visibly relaxed in each other’s presence. Belle nearly shook her head. Henry. The kid was magic, she would swear it.

“I’d like that, thank you,” Rumple said, taking the box. Henry scampered to his side, his head nearly in the box as he pointed to donuts and debated the finer points of confectionary with Rumple. The two heads bent together, one silver-brown, the other nearly black, was the most adorable thing Belle had seen in some time and her heart constricted.

“Does he have children of his own?” Regina had moved to Belle’s side, giving the two boys their space, and watched them much the same as Belle did, pride in Regina’s eyes as she looked at her son.

Belle didn’t know what to say. If Rumple had a family, they’d for sure be on that ship with him. She’d bet her last dollar that he’d never let his loved ones out of his sight and would be a doting parent, one ridiculously easy to run roughshod over. His wife would have her hands full, that was for certain, but she’d be very lucky.

“Belle?” Regina’s voice pulled her back to earth.

“What? Oh, sorry! No, um, Robert doesn’t have children.”

Regina hummed. “That’s too bad. He clearly loves them and I’d imagine he wants some of his own.” She sent Belle a small, knowing look.

Belle frowned. Why was everyone looking at her like that today?

“Perhaps, if things go well, he might get his wish someday.” She smirked.

“What?” Belle hissed, standing and crowding into Regina’s space so as not to be overheard by Rumple.

Regina gave her a look, lowering her voice. “Oh, come on, I’m not saying anything you haven’t already thought of, am I?” Belle blushed and Regina patted her shoulder affectionately. “I didn’t think so.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Belle said, crossing her arms.

Regina scoffed, mirroring Belle’s posture. “Please. It was obvious from across the market that you two are clearly interested in each other.” She quirked an eyebrow, pursing her red lips in amusement. “And don’t think for a second that I missed that little moment where you wiped something off his face.”

“Regina,” Belle whispered through clenched teeth, “he and I… we’re just friends. We haven’t known each other that long and there are… circumstances you don’t know about.”

“Like what?” Regina scoffed quietly. “Is he a former felon? Does he have ties to the mafia? Is he already married? Is he broke?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Why does your mind go to the worst possible reasons?”

“Because short of those things,” Regina retorted tartly, “I can’t understand why you’re not grabbing him by the lapels of that very expensive suit and kissing him like I know you want to.”

Belle glared at her defiantly. “Maybe I have and he said no, maybe… maybe he only wants friendship.”

Regina barked a laugh, loud enough to draw the attention of Rumple and Henry. Henry’s eyes darted back to the box but Rumple’s lingered on Belle for a moment, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth, before he continued his conversation with Henry.

“Yes, that look screams ‘friendship’, Belle,” Regina muttered. “I’m sure he’d like to show you exactly how deep his friendship goes.”

“Regina--”

“Look,” she interrupted, “I know I’m sticking my nose where it’s not wanted, but can I offer you a serious piece of advice?”

Belle nodded reluctantly and Regina smiled sadly, pulling her more to the side.

“If you found something, even the hint of something, that you think could make you happy, don’t let it go.”

Belle started to protest but Regina stopped her.

“I,” she sighed, “did the opposite. Take my advice.”

She shot Belle a meaningful look before breaking away, holding out a hand to Henry who was laughing at something Rumple had said. He’d taken Belle’s spot when she moved and was leaning back and clutching his sides with the hand not holding a donut as he giggled. Rumple looked more delighted than Belle had ever seen him as he elaborated some point to Henry that had him dissolving in giggles all over again.

“Come on, Henry. Let’s leave Miss Belle and Mr. Gold to their donuts.”

Henry turned to his mother with a whine.

“But Mr. Gold wasn’t finished with his story!” He turned back to Rumple. “How does it end?”

Rumple smiled. “If they’re not careful,” he said, pointing to his face, “it comes out of their noses.”

Henry let out a belly laugh, doubling over in his seat, and Rumple chuckled along with him.

“Henry, you’re going to choke on your donut if you keep doing that,” Regina said. Her words lacked any real heat and Henry sat up, smiling at Rumple.

“I like you, Mr. Gold. I hope you and Miss Belle are friends forever.” He took another huge bite of his donut, glaze smearing on his cheeks. “And then,” he said chewing and smacking, “you can tell her stories, and then she can tell me, and it’ll be the best.”

Rumple handed Henry a napkin, his smile broad and warm. “Sounds like a good plan. You should go with your mother, now, son. It was wonderful to meet you.”

Henry hopped off the bench, joining his mother. “Nice meeting you, too, Mr. Gold.” He darted over to Belle, throwing his arms around her. “Bye, Miss Belle!”

She squeezed him back affectionately before releasing him. “Bye, Henry. I’ll see you soon.”

Regina nodded to them in turn. “Mr. Gold. Belle.”

Henry waved as they walked on, and Belle caught the look Regina shot over her shoulder and the little head jerk that she knew was supposed to mean talk to him. She sat, pulling the donut box into her lap, and peered inside, chuckling as she saw three more donuts had disappeared in the scant moments she’d been speaking to Regina.

Rumple leaned over, looking in the box himself, and smiled sheepishly.

“I couldn’t resist letting him have more than the one he requested.” He looked back out to the crowd. “He’s a sweet boy.”

Belle gazed at him, Regina’s words coming back to haunt her.

Just kiss him.

She took a moment to process Regina’s words as Rumple sat back and looked around, taking in what he could see of her town.

What if she did kiss him? Regina had been right, after all. Belle had wondered what it would be like to kiss Rumple since the damn bath she took on the ship, and that was when they had only just met and he’d abducted her. Granted, it was just a handful of days ago, but they’d been in each other’s presence for the majority of that time. Didn’t that sort of fast track things?

Rumple turned his attention back to her and sent her an adorable look of confusion.

“Belle? Is something amiss?”

She looked into his eyes and sighed. She was thinking too much.

“No, nothing’s wrong, Rumple,” she said, shaking her head. “I just… want to do something.”

“I see. Shall we visit another stall, perhaps? I find myself intrigued by the woodcutter--”

She leaned forward into his space, cutting him off with the press of her lips to his cheek. He let out a startled little noise and she brought up a hand to cup the other side of his face as she pressed into him. He grew very still beside her and she pulled back slowly, releasing him to look into his eyes.

He sat there, frozen and unsure as she pulled back to regard him.

* * *

She’d kissed him. That peculiar human mating ritual had been done to his face, by Belle of all people, and he hadn’t the barest idea what to do next.

So he stared back at her. A corner of her mouth twitched upward and her warm, soft hand slid from his face to lay atop one in his lap.

“Thank you for coming with me today,” she said in a half-whisper.

He nodded dumbly. “O-of course.”

She kept staring at him, her eyes roaming his face as if waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure. Should he be doing something else? Should he kiss her back? He’d been fascinated by her mouth for half the time they’d been at this blasted Market Day, the sight of her sucking sugar off her fingers making his spine tingle.

Thank the gods for the nullifying effects of the cloaking device, otherwise, he would be operating on an entirely different level of awareness and Belle… would be in trouble.

He shoved the thoughts aside for perusal at a later time, the scientist in him taking the space vacated by the suppression of his baser instincts and analyzing what had happened.

A kiss was affection to her people. She hadn’t enjoyed the one he saw her receive from that stupid oaf when they were first in her library but had assured him that kisses, in general, were pleasant. So, it was a good thing she had kissed him. At the very least, it meant she definitely didn’t loathe him and for that he was thankful.

He peered at her lips. They had been quite soft and warm against his face, and he wondered what they would feel like sans disguise. Warmer? Softer? And what was the purpose of that peculiar paint she applied to them that deepened their natural rose-pink? Was that another mating ritual, the wearing of paint on one’s face? Regina had been sporting the same thing, only brighter. Perhaps she had been trying to signal louder than Belle that she was available for a mate.

“Rumple?”

He started, realizing he’d begun to reach for her mouth with his fingers.

“Oh, I’m… I apologize, Belle.” He yanked his hand back to his lap, rubbing his fingers together.

She shot him an odd look, biting her lower lip. “A-are you ok? You’ve… well, you’ve been staring at me for a solid minute without saying anything.”

He didn’t know how to respond, and his mouth opened and closed a few times before he snapped it shut. It would likely offend her if she knew he was analyzing the past several minutes and extrapolating data for lack of a better idea of what the hell to do next.

She pulled away from him, crossing her arms around her middle and hunching over slightly. “Shit. It was wrong to kiss you, wasn’t it?” She shook her head. “I knew it was a dumb idea. I’m going to kill Regina,” she muttered. He saw her lower lip start to tremble as she crumpled in on herself even further and panic gripped him.

He cast about his mind for a solution, not wanting to see her cry again and berating himself for making it happen without really knowing how or why. He latched onto the first thought that came to him and took her face between his hands, pulling it close to his own and pressing his lips to her cheek, mimicking what she’d done to him.

He had no idea if he was doing it correctly, but her surprised little noise and her little hands sliding up to hold his where they were told him it must be correct.

He counted a few seconds in his head before pulling back. It had only been lips against cheeks, but part of him was beginning to understand what was appealing about this form of affection. The feel of her skin still lingered as he slowly moved away, her sweet scent filling his nostrils stronger than ever before.

Was it always like that? Such a warm, lovely press, easily conveying what was hard to say with words? It was a gift; a precious bit of oneself offered to another. He fought the strong desire to bring his nose to hers, to rub against her and see what she would do.

He had pulled back a bit but still held her face, his thumbs gently caressing the apples of her cheeks as he gazed at her. Liquid blue eyes stared back at him, wide and wondering, and a little smile bloomed on her face. He felt his own lips twitch upward in response.

The bark of a hound sounded from somewhere across the market, having the unpleasant effect of popping the bubble they’d found themselves in. He lowered his hands, chuckling sheepishly and she answered it with one of her own.

A sudden ridiculous shyness overtook him and he had to look away. He dropped his eyes to the box.

“I believe you might be correct about the donuts containing magic, after all, Belle,” he said.

She looked at him in silence for a moment before letting out a sweet, joyful laugh and squeezing his hand.

A warm, pulsing swirl surrounded his heart at the feel of her skin against his and the sound of her laughter, and Rumple knew he was in very serious trouble of a different kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> I struggled a bit with this chapter; I hope you were able to enjoy it <3


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